2am thoughts on a Saturday morning [sonnet]

To dwindle yet remain
is our destiny perchance
up till the seventh plane
it is all a fine romance

we brew tea & we try
to accomplish this or that
understated yet wry
maybe sums up where we're at

as days & weeks unfold
there's a tinge of autumn now
while neither young nor old
there's a wrinkle on the brow

perhaps we're more or less
interfused with happiness

How Silent is God Speaks?

(1)

How silent is God Speaks?
how vocal is God's silence?
who stroll by babbling creeks
deem not their clamor violence
but cricket-like or birdsome
pure prayer albiet unwordsome

(2)

Thinking outside the boom box
pulling way down the volume
zeroing out all the babble
silence resumes its own tale

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"Thinking outside the boom box"
-- a line borrowed from Kendra Crossen

Question [blank-verse hemi-sonnet]

I've read so many books    about how to write books 
& I've heard radio shows    on the making of radio shows
seen a bunch of bright movies    about people making movies 
& on TV I've watched programs    devoted to TV programming

O but when Lord    here within the realm of thought
will I generate such a thought    as is able to reach
right down to the very source    & root of all thinking?
that can thereby show me clearly    how everything all

your layered worlds    & their quaint representations
are arising every instant    in your tenebrous mind?


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for Ward Parks