Gone

sharp black angular edges and slopes of rooftops

affectionately framing the dark blue smokey skies

shimmering in the elegant ghost silver,

pale sliver lunar calm

they're slow dancing under an open umbrella

of gently pulsing stars

where waves and spirit crash brightly

where they were once cradled by the night myth

where the east wind sings

rustling fall colors on bended boughs

it was then that it finally became time

to find each others hands

in the times they never knew

when she finally began to accept her beautiful reflection

and turn silver to gold

when they at long last became that promised constellation

tenderly cradled by the night myth

The shallows

You needed something to cover your eyes

while trying to hold back your own hand from turning pages

changing times

blankets of sound

sunsets

hard pressed to gain entry

to these ancient caves of memory

I brought all the books I thought I'd ever need

when all that really mattered was the paper

to make up

for what she needed so much to hear

snake charmer

In the church near Cabot St.

The pine sway chorus now frosted

pale light shining through the small basement window

where once she so loved to be there with hymn

now he's all moved out

the pictures so faded they look like your paintings

in kinship and in flames

misread the serpent

still loved you so dearly

coughing up dark water

on a train traveling the opposite way

as the last silver discs of pink twilight

sank under smokey overcast clouds

black mountain crowned

I looked desperately for you when the doors finally opened

as if such a memory could simply be made

by passing through the eyes

while cold wind whispers through the starlight shade

as your stone hands wave goodbye

as a world is blown away

October

she hoped one day

to catch those ribbons of melody in the sky

and those lights....

that purple muttering sound

his words that thaw night like spring to ice

sounds like bright bands clasping tight

sounds like she might sleep tonight

and how can it be so cold in September?

Is it too much to ask him by moonlight?

By the faintest scent of holy basil

rose winds in the morning

tailwinds in the evening

traveling towards their annihilation

carefully selected, plucked then pushed away...

just remember the time

he tore through the rain fields to find you

to bring you back East

though it cracked those frozen blue jewels

on your cardinal mask

and as the city rises

they're singing their hurt over the sweet unknown

I still hear so much about them

dressed in black

in endless protest to each others absence

in desperate need of someone to put an end to this

in happily ever laughter.

Ardor

Her fragrance forming mind fires and there on his right...

she's tenderly layering delicately blazing ropes

across the deep canvas of night

recalling the space of her rich brown gaze

and the lingering bass of her footfall

on old wooden floors when he awoke with fever

she ran for a damp cloth

shadows defining what would feel like heaven

all three red

twice with food and once before bed

a bright orange sun vanishes under the window

as her dress, drapes then slips to the floor

and her cold body coincides with his heat

He woke to snow with no one home

subtle icicles reflecting her bright smile

and to the great surprise of the dawn

and with all her love....

she revealed herself as the vast white plains of razor winter

Your Core

toneless winds carry chimes that sigh

through the sliding grip of their clasped hands

that start the slow sinking engines of the great machine

solitude and quiet dreams

waking up in tall grass

still sticking together through all the endless decay

and since this season never ends I'll drink it away

inhaling long mists that wrap around graves

all laced up and ready to go

in a car with nothing but static whispers on the radio

the windows don't work

they've all been replaced by twilight films

the steering wheel is locked and we're speeding downhill

it won't be too bad

as long as you're there

as long as you...

in the distance

stolen glances and alterations

to the soft shimmering haze of your silhouette

filling the sky with fragile words of hope

and today I believe after seven long years

perched on a broken bridge waiting out winter

as your Spanish galleon ran ashore to a field of cold roses

blooming in blue sepia tones

the sea breeze scatters the petals around your black army jacket

there's a frozen white horse in a musical glass globe

and inside it snows

while we're crawling through the hollows

sifting through the laughter of blown minds

patiently perched on your right shoulder wading through winter

as your love explodes like a frost grenade

in a slow serenade

the face of a season you can not remember

looking once more

at last tears in the mirror