Coma

You knew where you were at last

when you saw the place where the sky falls,

where the clouds crouch at the horizon

where an elusive crescent slowly sends

its long forgotten thoughts through the air

though no one can rebuild these writhing colours

with their new words for despair

the t.v.'s hands are tied

and there on the cold frozen grounds

below the towering black buildings

where razor winter bends the last starlight dusted smile

of the worlds that flicker under your eyelids

where love never dies

clouds and garlands

When where you hope to be again

is an idle dormant time

where the streetlights shine their soft golden haze

reflecting off deserted snow in those cold ocean days

when such a faded, sleepy gaze

repels the resting clouds and their flickering twilight glow

when nonetheless time turns and leans

heavy haunted and slow

still notes as puffs of warm air while you sleep on your side

still fears and calm your eyes too wide

as the world blows by

they remain as wills on winds

like a deep sea anchor

staring at these white out conditions

temporarily together again....

the source

she sent so many letters

but watched helpless from the balcony

as dancing sheets of rain washed the ink from the pages

she still blooms brightly in this diving silence

still trying to twist some sense of this view

from the archway

dynamic in slow moving metered steps

as her hair falls forward over the cascading rails

sending a new torrent of lovely lunatic paper angels

to the empty corners of rain slicked streets below

she watches captivated as her angels simmer sink and descend

but remains resentful of the way they fall so slowly

while she remains a guest of black buildings

looking for a moment to jump...

a galaxy in their hands

A casual glance from her Andromeda eyes

caters to the carpet of frozen rain

falling from the sharply painted skies and casting branches

petrified

two arrows is all I need to ask of you

through the heart of this slow moving season

there are no more feelings

as razor winter limps through this weary country

enamored at the violent poverty she sows

delighted at the crushing chords of decay in each cacophonous step

such a sick winter beast

a decoy redefined

behind her trailing through darkening days

dragging her snapped tethers and summers rusted chains

twisting through the barren fields

free from the Autumn warden

into the whispering realm of low shadows

she has etched the cruel beauty

of a frozen grayscale rainbow

into the stratosphere to remind us

of her temporary reign

all hail winter

drift

drifting in the remorseful seas darkest cape of deepest starlight

the lively patterns of softly glowing fireflies

skimming the face of shame

blinking in 3's between the twinkling rhythm

of cold burning constellations

she learned their names so long ago

floating flat on her back

where there above silver streaks when winter meteors pass

six fires sing on the shifting shores

as she hovers, as she shudders

the stars shift to form a picture

eyes fixed and pressing the image to shaking memory

counting the plans and hourglass sands

announcing to lands we lived in

how forever feels so fleeting.....

windmill

listening to the chattering winds countries away

it's the closest we could ever get

to finding each others signs again

on a raised hillside smiling

snaking between the crescent moon

rhythmically waves the slow hope of a windmill

drifting between the blinking light and darkness

watching the shade invading your delicious grin

with one hand you cover your eyes

and mimic the broken backed gait of grief

felt by the final return

of your body's betrayal

as you lay your heavy head under those spinning arms

that slowly so slowly

and forever

wave goodbye

shimmering fields

I figured that no one would notice

when this curtain drew back

revealing your stone mask cracked

when listening means always being wrong

when the music of the seasons crackles and curls

when sleep is a dreamless dark tunnel

without a pilot to land us gently into waking daybreak

last winter you signed all your work with a match

with a slick clairvoyant flick of your ringless finger

you wrote a shocking hangmans testament to our time

always playing your assassins chord

always healing forevers fear with your rough pale hands

in the twilight pigments of an afternoon

heavily pregnant with humidity

a swirling cinema of dust shot to the leftmost corner of the sky

and took away the avatars eye

while down below they drift through their days apart

unintentionally mimicking

the slow almost invisible movements of sea life

folded hands in your smiling lap

ringless fingers

devious

speaking 1 winged pigeon English to tall trees

ultimately that ring found its way down a drain

the resulting storm left us roofless for days

and gathering up petals

at the matte onyx base

of black bulidings