canticle

brittle shaking generations of cities glittering

pavements host to city ghosts

now fully formed from small turquoise flowers

by believing he's inheriting all her hauntings

all her callings

though she's sold her heart sky high

laughing as the fluorescent lights flicker

providing a score

to the great glacier chasing

I fell hard to the ground and stayed

daring lighting to strike twice

wondering if the song would sound the same

had you remained

the smallest world

when it finally came to see you again

every last hope you ever had carried me to the sands

half asleep with sea birds calling

carried over the sea

on a rising tide of miserable unreal flowers

he's walking away through their grey morning

while she sits home up in bed building bleak possibilities

what's she trying to say?

what led her to these reflections?

speeding through tomorrows like a serpent through the acid rain

brave breaking lonely leaps

infused with the rose pink breath of pale dawn

shining signs through the sleeping pines dozing in a clearing

sunlight locks its jaws on the flattened tops of daises

all around

she's raining paper angels through the threats of razor winter

he's following her lead wondering what tears at this point,

can possibly wash away

he collects her waking puffs of morning breath

in lovingly cupped hands

inbetween slipping fingers

in things dreamed, said and had

in so far as you be gone....

and for what it's worth,

It was then that I watched the sky burst

and cascade a tempest of beautiful shimmering paper angels

around the capes where we shared a setting sun

aspect

falling into patterns of resentment

now cornered with fair warning by his animal chorus

shouting

and on that night

swearing by cold comets passing by

he witnessed her as she swore to never be like them

blue white sands and it's night now on singing beach

moonlight performing on the water

as crescent lit ripples lap around bare ankles

A warm wind blows from those frozen black rocks

far away in the unfair distance

6 senses all glowing

through this wreath of gloom

and through all this do they patiently wait

for the sound of wings

her seven wonders all crumble in slow motion

suffering their stranded foolish tears

granting forgiveness

for breaking each others hearts

quietly calling night waves

daring them to dash...

where in the world...

dearest.

move to music

willingly in chains

with the mask of time passing subtle victories

all clear

all inspiration

red rusting runaway moments

tend to your escape plans so beautifully

it is a privilege

to accompany your ghost

down your down your downward spiral

closing in to fix the shattered glass face

of that pocket watch

another 60 second sentiment

of a home high in the mountains

........dancing........

but now,

a spotlight of blue flames pacing slowly

there around your absorbing skin

there on the wing swept sands

shaking paper angels from the phantom wisps

the trailing auburn streaks in your hair

high tide

highlight

there burning high in this bonfire night

all those pictures of sinking ships

drawn by your slight steps on those cold white sands

will eventually be collected by the curious waves

waltzing and whirling ankle deep now

dismissing the cold

as the fire flickers reflected there in your dress

in concert with the starlight and bare white

shoulders

dancing on December beach

sphere of ambition

sunlight strikes

drills hills, holes through the listless clouds

like a falling steel beam underwater

colored footfalls down strobe lit streets and hallways

inside storm windows rattle

with the nervous metallic sky

ready to break in compliance with the falling heavens

a hurried reflection flattens

and dances against the iron grain of the day

nimble around all the attention we never paid

even so, hope grows like ivy

slowly wrapping around

black bolted gates

paint flaking white and red rusted bridges

in the open evening like an industrial jawbone

your arms open as in crane flight

sleeping secrets away in flat plains

undercover 'till that wretched sun goes away

to escape these black buildings

shattering a monolith

with a bulls eye drip drip dripping

there on your proud breast

keepsake

she's raining away in empty rooms now

broken like bottles buried in the bottom of a dresser

safe from harm

safe from his eyes

an open window lures a dense humid cough of air

from another slice of sick summer afternoon

raised the red flags

for a coordinated attack on all those old love letters

something only an only child could understand

she should have thrown them away

when she heard that he had burned her verse

but they had a weird way of hanging on

like aurora borealis

clinging to the sky

paper angels fall around as a soundtrack to her sighs

to the faraway sounds of slow trains

ruined lives as the situation might imply

buried for so long

in the bottom of a dresser

Old Wastes of Time IV

we began to believe

understand and separate these stranger days

these old wastes, wet stains of time

we rethought the patterns

rethought the words but remained the same

to tired to change

three eyeless gaze at the surrounding clouds

surrender to the love of crowds

our submission began the swift descent

How rightly concerned we were for future days

and never made it beyond the killing fields

all the professional words of the dying

we concerned ourselves with fractions of desire

a split second reenacted to stretch beyond life for the briefest of moments

victorious

and though we never heard the sound

or understood its true intention

the cracking shot rang loud and tumbling

as sanguine spilling spray hissed on cold November stone

steaming between the ghostly cracks

we gave the world

to hear the word

a limited engagement

to find life again

a hard thing to argue

a harder thing to hold....