A poet for the Nameless

Outside is everything.
The day and the sun and the trees,
but it is infinitely calm in here
deep inside me.

Perhaps I’m uninhabited.
I, of ancient ownership
and vanished years,
flag of abandoned land.

I leave this collection of poems
written in archaic language
for those who are missing
yet can still dream.

They will read them in silence
and recognize my name
under the gleam of their eyes.

D.Q. 3/13/06