finally enjoying being daddy's little girl

i was once whole
serene and the same,
after i had been mad
because there were was no distace
between my words
and the one who spoke withour name
at their place in my absence.
i miss you mike
but the one who always speak
beforehand is now dead,
without much blood.

i am whole the second time
but mad again without knowledge -
for in caves of my far-off ears
a flight of echoes mourn
these peaks of his that once raised
my cry
like a depth of choruses without
range-
the murmur of writing,
the nothing that speaks,
where his language lies without passion,
-and lies still