Kevin Keane (3.26.06)

Uncertainty

I spoke to the graves
lying in rows, indifferent,
bleakly reflecting
the dim twilight,
but they were silent
as the gray sea at dusk
when the fog envelops us
in obscure mists.

briefly finding relics of the dead:
cherry smell of a pipe, frayed brown
slippers, yellow pages of Othello-

lost unsteady stumbling
falling silently all night
down endless dark corridors
that open out unsurely
to the morning sky.

— by Kevin Keane


Dreamscape

Black sea where we swim
in the silence of stars as
boats bellow in the distance.

Night a dark country
across the invisible
sea-

swim still waters
to the quiet
fields of memory
slip on sand dunes of regret
or scale the peaks of the unseen.

-by Kevin Keane