bleak

in the dried desolation of the Salton Sea
amidst rusted and decomposing dreams
in bleak burned out barns where weeds thrive
and bones of horses rest, blackened
in forsaken forests where snow rests wet and heavy
on pungent rotted branches
or in cloying grave wax sepulchers
where ancestors quietly await reclamation
lie the chambers of my heart
and the still, dark, midnight of solace