On the Peaks of December Dark..

I wonder if you heard that voice

hidden there between and beyond the fall

crashing through the cascading silence

and all the world is all the words we once shared

found clues of your exsistence

your trodden path

an old scarf

all those colors you used to weave

an old copper ring

some shells

I can still taste all those ghosts

all those sad moments

like when the tape just broke

it was bound to happen

face down in flowers

in flames

tiny winged thing flitting about our hair

as those sirens wailing in low tones in the distance

provided soundtrack for waking

ransacked the jar for change

to buy just a little more time together

deeply asleep in the midst of razor winter

with all the doors and windows wide open

all four winds

blasting us to opposite sides of the world

that day was my birthday

I decided it...

firstlight

scattered scarlet resounding in spirals

turning wide arcs upwards to pinpoint a single star

lit the pitch like a pinhole on an arid desert

blue dunes shuffle

the lacy curtain of dawn still hours away

sustained youth

all standing around like tracing paper

as we cradled these days

as we repeated promises down eastern walkways

as our shins grace the tips of long petaled flowers

growing there on the picketed sand dunes

somehow

dawn bravely drifts into clear view

things on shadow greens whirl and chirp

in acknowledgement the slowly spreading mist

coughs us onto the barely there

grey sands

the careless tides fold and break

like a consistent match strike

within the jaded role of designated time

all our limber youthful movements

turn to stone

I can no longer make out what is being said over the speakers

as day shadows with handles beg to be noticed

as your tattered rags break loudly on the breeze

as pages of eyesore scatter suns

at first light

as the first beam of morning touches our naked toes

Avalanche

Two drops of oil splash down

in the avalanche forest

stark and darkly to the moon a railway rises

we tiptoe hand in hand

to dreams in front of chocolate opaque light

ships

battle for the title of remembrance

he shakes his mane for the baby octopus he ate

it stank up the whole house

muddied up our already short attention spans

and knocked us together sideways

a splash there in the avalanche

dips toward the Terra

and in a second blinks twice to catch the oval sky

falling around us

shuffling barefoot through darkness

and breathing together

knock a splashing avalanche

into 10 minuets time with you

Snow Antidote

treasured gloom

the wind blows patterns of sunlight, spotlights

of morning light

kiss the complex lace there across several planks

of the worn wooden floor

I left your house in the middle of all that snow

made so much heavier

by the twisting ribbons of twilight

the arching branchscape black skeletal branches

slightly betray signs of a warm spring

against the fiery preaching reign of razor winters

calamitous frosty brass breath

like wolves howling for you sad brown eyes

to watch over the pine wreckage forest

blinked away as you flashed momentarily

there on the tip of a sunsetting ocean

impossibly real

tearing tender moments from welded iron trapdoors of memory

and all those changing fall days

The Architect

Suffering through the third design

the iron conscripts of your will

traded places for pleasure

watched the rippled moon rise

tainted

from the great black lake

of deeply driven

dark dogwood blossom

windswept

assaulted night

from the banks of a dry splintered beach

the cars crackle by

from within the engines of fire

the fury behind your eyes

from the reverberating gaze fixed gaze

stare unblinking

all these millions of expenses

all of these wounded winter months

forgotten

like stone column textured time

broken arrows sing sailing and fused

impacted and resonating

in your spine

I believe in your victory

unmade

Two solid sometimes separate

unite

under segregated stars and breathe

the tide for these ears to hear

the whispered words of faded lives

called sometimes desperate

desolate

desolation station smashed on the tracks

pearl fingers sliding down necks and backs

back and forth 29 miles

clearly comparing conditions

how many miles away do you sit and wonder?

those felled

sometimes intricate descriptions and smiles

grasping

holding this joy with a snowstorm grip

instead of "waves goodbye'

waves plant flowers

on the memory of this shore

dead flowers are fading away

for two solid sometimes separate

unite

A scented well

on an old cup there rests a few fleeting fingerprints

as complex as your composure

the scenery passes and fastens itself

to the empty seat next to me at breakfast

untied shoelaces dragging

through all those alleys you rode down

rooftops with plants overgrown and overhead....

lights in the distance dotted

black buildings

pyre lights

blue chimes to the sky's protest and resistance

into it's twilight transformation

the last smokey wisps of fettered clouds

cowering inevitable collision

with the night

I regarded your smile as a well, deep and peaceful

timed out..

metered out all the joys through every passing season

in every windswept gaze

and all the sandalwood scents your hair held then..

scents of home

where you lay in the room at the back

waiting for the complexities of the the day to subside

to cross your arms and sail softly away

the first dreaming shore..

lit by a slow moving drift of paper lanterns

a visual chorus

there on the backlight

fairytale long dark expanse of dawns hovering outline

traced along the soft contours of your arched tempered back