Ours was the grey by the willowing bay,
Where tides, alone, took dry away.
I let mine flow with nothing to show,
But that was nearly a century ago.
Might I have saved those colors I shaved
For just another year,
Would I be brighter and most of life lighter?
In sight of that, I fear.
Still, home is the place, no matter my face,
Where ambrosial colors draw near and embrace.
My sun-dried sin, so real back then,
Likely that he has forgotten again.
Behold the cruelty of tomorrow,
A bridged world of electric settings
Spreading moments and names
So thin, manageable, pale,
As ghosts try ghosts on for size.
Seeing you see me, close as to kiss
Yet far and real as the stars –
Bodies between memory and actuality –
I smile and find the night charming.
Goodnight, goodbye
Is as much a curse to the sun
As a removal of a face from a face
Or to die.
Two figures in dense, violet night
Face a glass pane.
No pity or despondence in their sighs
Upon the glass betwixt their eyes.
Behold the light drifting by and through,
Upon your face, a streak of loveliness.
Speak, and if silence only sakes your thoughts,
Think to love beyond your voice and grasp.
We spend our mind beyond that glass:
A foggy blue, synthetic wall, perfectly in the way,
Unscathed and cold by touch.
The weakness of our form fixes our thoughts
And fascinates us with the unknown world
Beyond the I of the glass,
Yet still and silent are the stars.
Oh how they shine! Bending our forms
To dream and sing and scheme of the divine.
This obsession with what we cannot obtain alone
Separates us from the objection –
Each self, upon feet, upon a bank,
Fearing the waters of chaos and drowning in
The unnatural acceptance of I won’t be,
Goodnight, goodbye –
And fills our hearts with longing.
I dream of the warmth on the other side,
Of the smells and shades christening my breath.
Beyond the glass, the sounds are clear and igniting.
My spirit, none-sided, sends me through the glass,
A colorless, thin resolution dividing –
To those moving lips and shadows,
Sounding not, minding not –
Where fallen soft, your hair, billowing grace
Asphyxiates despair.
Sunrise in my eyes
Sunrays in my box of sand
Imagination
Triassic jewelry
Priceless rot of savage time
Museum pantomime
Once fierce now hallow
Secrets safe without a sound
Sleeping underground
