Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Colour wheel

the intuition of oblivion

a red dawns rage shines through the delicate ash

carried on a carrion wind

through the corporeal body of the world

your nine frozen points of origin shuddering

stay cold even in this heat

filtered colours through the smoky clouds

create swirling twilight masks on all the pale faces

faces ever gazing upwards

Awoke a dreamer

No wind howling at the window now

A memory of slow crashing thunder now sleeps

in the pale light of this lullaby morning

bold perhaps but insignificant after all

all those dormant tears in your storm clouded eyes

all the secret chords in your voice

all the wind kissed drifts of driven snow

and every song you ever shook from your hair

playing so softly

like footsteps

in the cold golden glow of dawn

Friday, November 23, 2007

fabricated pushed aside

fabricated assumed and left to wonder

left unreasonable, solid at least


indoor said outdoor said searching for foot prints

that led to your door

led to your own remarkable heart

cut glass


filled about to burst overflowing and left to drown

in a split second decision stripped and exposed

washed out and washed away rusted chains

stain the days where time sheared away

these shared common moments

remembering a black and white sunrise


caught in a net influenced and distraught

taken away far from home


and walk on by shielded face from his eyes

walk on by walk on by

shield your heart from those eyes

A singularly hideous stiff upraised arm


charcoal smelling of sulfur

destroyed another piece chipped away

slipped away

some more fear some more love some more change

simply saw the last paper angel fall to the floor

low hanging branches heavy with snow

wrist shakes. points from the window

willow wisp cracked the frost

woke the forest as their dead arms

stretched frozen still for wanting apple blossoms

while exploring took care not to tread

harshly on the wind

they were it's guests after all

it's quest

one for all

it's gust that touches their blindside fall

spell cast within the cold it brings together now warm

between us became simply enough

your breath is beautiful

and neither eyes are open

but I had to take in that face

while the moon was peeking at us

buried there in perfection

becoming a root in the ground

twisting playfully is shy shadows

Sunday, November 11, 2007


Holding on tight like Christmas

to the white rusted rails

standing on the spot where you heard her kiss the ground

at the top of the steps

stood waiting to sirens smashing silence

as a prisoner of pines made ever ill

by their duality

surrendered there but no one noticed

6 waiting days call cresting winds

to the crashing thunder of hooves

the sound of your jewelry clinking in the wind

then muted against your soft dark hair

looking down the passionate knife point just outside your arms

the crumbling ghosts of your kisses trailing vespers

slow moving at the speed of a lifetime

living hidden in leaves changing

falling colours

10 years later

finally set each other free


the frozen green canopy slowly descending

we said we'd stay awake all night

10 minuets with you breaking down

blending colors through translucent petals still clinging to spring

in the empty realm

dark branches venting erratic fireflies from within the forest

there stands two black silhouettes suddenly falling

with the judgemental rain

tumbling through stark streets with frosted vision

catching signs of a royal wave goodbye....

bearing down brightly as angels exit this place

recalling rich purple comet trails blossoming

your wishes as a whisper

to the drifting starlight tides


a single branch dusted pink and wrapping around curled in a circle

ticks counter clockwise around her moon

as petals fall and scatter

she's coming

as cats call through the fleshy oak evening

as this longing has displaced itself in your absence

as we sit cross legged in fields of misery


through the thin stages of our bondage

your image treads the unsubstantial space for a moment

then drowns

watching as you grow smaller in the cool April haze


to join those howling stars

in the thorny


shrieking sky

I had to let you know...

peeking through small gaps in faded white fences

cloaked in frustration under the prevailing dusk

as it collects the last blueish breaths of the failing sky

high pitched melodic howling sounds

singular static bursts of electricity

driving those last faint clouds above to ruin

we threw out an old afghan to lay on the grass

as we sat and had our promised picnic after sundown

stopping time to stare for just a little while

at all of us

Thursday, November 8, 2007

the rolling echo of cannon fire

when it came time to take your place

concrete cracking hissing heat

awakened the terrible peril of your guardian angels face

causing our half swallowed silhouettes to twinkle in the sun

and all the free hearts around and near us

to breach the silent territories between us

reborn on the snowy streets that forgot us

your half opened eyes spilling sorrow

sent dry flowers to the ground

forming drifts

in endless devotion to all your Autumns

the searching eyes of the season isolates us from this

and sends us through the window as still life

Hymns of the heart blind dialouge

starlight dances off glass reflections

the timepiece casually ticking


casting long shadows on the beautiful planes of your face

once I heard your singing voice

like sharp swords shaking off the tender judgement

of devotion

listening as your ghost falls away from your clasped hands

as a cast silver cloud over twilight sands

the peaceful silence of slumber slow and steady

while dawn lovingly drapes

with cold pale grace

its comforting perspectives around your bare ankles

and puts the darkest corners to rest

just for a moment

just for forever.......

The View

at a slow rolling pace

moves the corpulent moon

through the cunning clouds of the night myth

crushing the curse of razor winter

scattering all attachment and devotion to this agile season

she stands adjacent to a still willow tree

listening to the west winds sifting through her hair

a forgotten concept of unfulfilled faith

essential as a catalyst for the inspiration that she will need

to endure a stint on the clicking overgrown rooftop gardens

of black buildings

when any sane person in her place

without her warriors heart

would fall forward and drown in the still grim waters of fear

the tall trees tower around us

but for her we'll wake to sirens.

tracing paper

Her intercontinental kisses entangled in dark stars

hiding and hanging there on high

where gravity and lunar notions graze on verdant silk pastures

of slow dancing pale passing grey nimbus

she reclines there arched on the sleek backbone of night

reflected in his rusting hazel gaze

feeling the specter breeze passing through her hair

held back with a dark diamond clip

until the pale warm lace of dawn does break

and this...

this is the moment when her lost and blooming eyes

her slight sighs of morning air

serve to dominate him so completely

and keep the shadows at bay

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Lonely Birds

We spent an entire spring to hear this song

we whistled wondering what was happening back East

disguised dressed in black from head to toe

sending clandestine messages home

Summers thinning mask crashing into hoping for happiness

with your hands tied to tall trees that towered around

Falls feathers painting each day deep shades

of you

on the rolling five season mountains

flat against the cobalt sky

where there the broken seas did once shine

when then in lonely droves with winds crossed

so beautiful

chasing dormant days

chasing the love you never gave

over the inland sea

through the memory of sleep on a dark and comforting

maternal shore

between the delicious smiles of the thin air

There was a time...

so lovely.

we were one

Standing there soaked on the rain fields

in the absolute vacuum of your absence

in endless maze

weightless, past days...

the fiery swirling twilight on water still as glass

it looked cool to the touch even at that hour as we entered

A dedication that ran gold reflections

to coal black inversions

emerged half remembering the consequence of your devotions

twirling in a soft shower of ash

but failing to find the bitter and subtle beauty of a world blown away

to feel the pale pulse of your haunt

to hear about her standing there


standing there on our flooded roads

soaked to your beautiful bones on the rain fields

still, as somehow everything flows

in the absolute vacuum of your absence