This Empty Cup Fills With Swords Poem by Alex Roth

this empty cup
fills with swords
and words de
-light the candle

(the mind sees eyes)

darkness cools the tongue

a forest of moon

a sprig of air

sings like purple

on the soul

two Angels measure and color the light…

bishops curve on a chess

-board yawns of long dawns

crystal blank dream

tasteless blessed cream

a womb and a tomb between

the seen and unseen

an un-rang phone fits the voice of God

crying a silence mean