The Clearance Aisle: The Other Poems of Singular Impact; poetry from the Glass Citadel
"When's the Landslide Coming?"
Amongst rhomboid lozenges and dreams of
Stonehenges there’s a repeating question –
When’s the landslide coming?
Down near iridescent ctenophores
stone-drawn in ferrous ores there’s that question –
When’s the landslide coming?
Between bismuth bronze alcazars and wine-
colored bazaars there’s my constant question –
When’s the landslide coming?
It’s coming when the storm rolls in;
when the storm breaks in
it’s coming. Are you ready for
when Cro-Magnons come and eat at your desk?
when exequies fail to put you to rest?
when Lacan brings a funhouse mirror from Budapest?
when colporteurs fail to leave you blessed?
when darioles are put to the test?
Let me tell you some words, give some advice
‘fore the storm rolls out, let me be real concise:
never perform a play if you’re down in the jail;
always measure a suit if it comes with a veil;
never sign an envelope you got in the mail;
always trust a sheriff if he’s speaking in braille;
never eat an omelette if it came from a quail.
Well, the landslide’s coming and it’ll be
swift –
the thunder’s coming to broil the broth,
so let the spendthrifts give you their gifts:
three gypsy moths and an old washcloth;
a rubricated manuscript with
three of those nacarat feathered pens,
cotinga tipped yet still nondescript;
fine gifts from a lazaret down in Bharat.
Well, still rolling on, it’s rolling on
down –
with these few heuristic words and about
twelve zealous swords you’re ready on for
when Maximus translates God’s new will;
when communion must crashes and spills;
when John Henry runs a railroad spike through Yggdrasil;
when oil barons make all earth one deep ghyll;
when flower shops start selling Siberian squills.
Time’s drawing short, the short of the straw
but time doesn’t know so I’ll lay down the law:
no more time like Jesus and Judas;
no more time like Caesar and Brutus;
no more time for the prudish and foolish –
no more time for but the absolutists.
no more time because time is useless.
There’s that raucous comeuppance, that ever –
present question we package ourselves for –
When’s the landslide coming? It’s coming
when they assault Shackel’s motte and bailey;
when landscape photos come out all grainy;
when common law inveigles the bailee;
when frondeurs come for Juneau’s Delaney;
when meteors collide on the daily.
The dinosaurs are dying on a kid’s show
so I got to end with what you need to know:
only drink Ceylon tea when it’s three O’clock;
only drive a car when you’re half-shocked;
only climb a wall if it’s made out of chalk;
only eat a meal when it’s colored glauque;
only listen me if you’ve talked the walk.
“The Tale of Two Friends”
The sunken pallor of the sun-beat grass did not deter us,
For the green of the grass was the green-marbled halls of Brünnhilde,
And we were ancient friends Siegfried and Hagen of Tronje —
Our winter jackets now raven-cloaks, sticks now broadswords,
With us both rivalling the swordsmanship of famous Ahti.
The bare clay of the ground journeyed us to terrible Pohjola,
Where we found Ilmarinen’s Sampo was but a corrugated shoebox.
Then after having valiantly stolen the sketchers hidden inside
We would take our plastic recorders and play better than Väinämöinen.
The small un-mowed area journeyed us to the forest of Arkhon Arkhozh,
And we would bang our pebbles on the overgrown cobblestone,
Warning that mighty beast with the clang of Zhaqa’s horse hooves.
Then we would clatter to the white-picket mountains of neighboring Chinta,
And plot the defense of our people as great Narts Sawseruquo and Totaresh.
But Siegfried’s dragon skin was not all-encompassing,
And Ahti did not keep his vow to Saari’s Kylliki,
And Sawseruquo did not return the favour to Totaresh,
Just as the sun-kilned grass did not allay our words.
"May 5th, 1852"
The soil of the mountains cannot forget
whose blood it endured on that day
Taken from Bilejik and then cursed at Tbilisi,
the head of the man lies far away
though the blood from his neck still flows free,
the red of his blood the red of nature’s anger;
for it is not nature who tends the rice fields,
but man who waterlogged her soil –
man whose design stopped his horse,
killing him long before they severed his head.
Even so, the harvest was good.
"Allotted Stones"/"River Runs Anxious"
Oh, to run along that riverbed of worry
Where the stones touch not the stream
But gaze about wondering, waiting
For the touch of the small child’s palm
Marked loosely against his mother’s wishes.
Oh, to be such a stone of history, my
Back smoothed from time below the waves
Inscribed with the initials of the child
Now towering like a boulder, marked
Along with the two of his older lover.
Oh, to float as a leaf atop the river of life
To touch the water my lips have longed
And to feel then stone and then sediment
Of that child I wished to have been
But accompanied not across the waterfall
Am I.
"The Weatherman's Wife"
The clouds are crying from the weatherman’s wife
Who got dragged in the storm he could not predict.
Now he’s running and screaming with all of his life
And I would run besides him, but I hate to commit.
Instead I’ll search the orchard for pockets of clover
Find some with leaves enough for all of their tears.
Then they smile and laugh when the forecast is over
And keep stacked my vases through all of their years.
The clover is crying without the weatherman’s wife
Who never returned home from the storm of that day.
Now he’s gone on a train far away from this strife
Far away to that place they all call Chesapeake Bay.
I’ve still got my pockets of clover thrown in my pots
I hope it’s enough to untie these knots
— please be enough.
"Save a Star"
Next came the man in a green hued mask,
Bearing a cart of barrels and casks.
Willing and able for his dear task
To dare question me, and dare me ask,
If I would buy an old copper flask.
At the gaud I forgot common sense,
And quickly my haggling did commence
To gain the bauble at no expense.
And under a feigned indifference
I got the flask for a mere sixpence.
When the man left from where he had been,
I glanced over my trinket of tin,
And felt the desire to make it spin,
And out forth came a black-eyed djinn
Much to my horror and my chagrin.
He yelled to all ‘I am at last free!’
And turned his wicked gaze unto me.
‘Bow before me and beg on your knees.’
I fell before him voicing a plea
Beside the poisonous anchar tree.
He forced me into that evil tar
Until its venom boughs left me scarred.
That black-eyed djinn travelled oh so far
While I was alone, afraid and marred,
Soon forgotten by all save a star.
"The Undertaker's Understudy"
I will take the undertaker,
And lay him in his grave.
I will take the undertaker,
And lay him to degrade.
So many come to cry at night
Like old Don Juan and Donna Anna
Just to be another victim to the
Stone.
I will take the undertaker,
And lay him with his work.
I will take the undertaker,
And pray it didn’t hurt.
So many ring the iron tight
For a miracle like in Havana
So that they don’t have to die all
Alone.
I will take the undertaker,
And bury him six feet.
I will take the undertaker,
And hope he gets his sleep.
"Drawing Disgrace"
An ekphrastic dedicated to a work whose name I have forgotten.
Lines,
Darting and dashing in the air,
Lines,
Striking and striding in the air,
Nearly not nicking the poor plump pheasant.
Lines,
Undeviating and unwavering in the air,
Firmly driving through her treasured can.
Lines,
Besmirching the scarecrow, out with his wares,
Besmirching the cavalier, off to draw his sabre,
Besmirching the apostle, forsaking the fish,
Besmirching the old man,
Who is quiet in his demeanor.
He smiles and does not falter,
And yet he has no clothes
To hide his horrid happiness.
"The Sailor's Duplex"
The sea calls the sailor back to his home.
He hears people in his port of call,
He hears the sea calling him from port.
His lover stands waiting upon the deck,
His love is far away beyond the deck.
She smiles and gently embraces him,
She gently embraces and guides his ship.
He brought home a bounty of fish to eat,
He brought back her gift of fish to eat.
The clouds are telling him to get inside,
The clouds are telling him to leave outside.
One last kiss as he leaves his lover,
One last delay before he is with his love
The sea calls the sailor back to his home.
"Old Washed Patterning"
The clicking and the tattering of some old washed patterning.
Embroidered and sheltered in some worn down smelter.
Glazzling and glinting as though to some dedicated minting.
Dreams and nightmares agglomerate some dastardly affairs.
Mockery and flattery ill-deceived into some immaterate smattering.
Stolen coins and treasures fought as some worthwhile measures.
Plagues and fevers haunt ships as some misplaced perceiver.
Rules and time forgotten to some awestrucken witnessing sublime.
The doubting and livery concocted towards some delivery.
Perhaps happenstance and disgrace will bequeath some embrace.
Horror and ordained hauled triumphantly as some unstained.
Dullen and mirthless gladly paraded until some belaterate birthless.
Gloom and introspection quietly assaulted by some inspection.
Of the chitting and chattering of my old washed out patterning.
"Hot Pants in TNR 11 pt. Font"
After Richard Siken’s “Why”
"Broken Like"
Break like the big green garden
no one tends to anymore.
Break like the rotten fenceposts
long ago knocked over.
Break like good tears rolling down
A car windshield that no one sees.
Break like the silo did,
spilling all we worked for.
Break. Break. Break. Break. Break.
Break like my thoughts on the page,
fragile and diminutive, childish.
Break like the eggs I toss
down the stairs for the cat.
Break like my fingers under the tire
where I don’t know what I was thinking.
Break like the bird’s nest
the wind just didn’t like.
Break. Break. Break. Break. Break.
Break like my heart according to
the doctor who, when I visited for
my first annual checkup in a while,
worried about my diet and all those
useless things no one actually cares
for when he rattles on with numbers
likely hiding something in plain sight
until he asked me about you, and I
choked, and he had to perform the
Heimliche Maneuver, only he spelled
it right when he spoke about it,
and then I hid behind my medical
tragedy to avoid saying anything
ever again about what you once
told me. I didn’t say. I want to,
now I know why though. I say I’m
Break. Break. Break. Break. Break.
"Elaboration of the 48th"
Nights of the round table,
ever forlorn, crying
for the sun they were tasked
to defend. By nature
they must fail, every time
their conscious
dictates they awake.
I stare out the window,
gazing at the tomato
fallen from the plant that
is being eaten by
some animal
in tattered clothes.
His greasy palms meld
with the juicy ooze he
uncovers with each bite
from yellow teeth,
like the tomato tar
hiding his palms.
But the psalms cry out! God is in her citadels, in her gardens, tasting now of her
fruits, now from her garden, now from her tree. God is now in her citadels,
in her gardens, tasting now of her fruits, now from her garden, now
from her tree. God is now in her citadels, in her gardens,
tasting now of her fruits, now from her garden, now
from her tree. God is now in her citadels, in
her gardens, tasting now of her fruits,
now from her garden, now
from her tree. God is
now in her
citadels.
Like Master and Margarita,
I dance with the devil while sanity
hides from a poet’s
heart.
“An Inventory of All Discovered Species of Ants (So Far) and Their Scientific Useful Names”
Ants. Army Ants. Carpenter Ants. Shipwright Ants. Fire Ants. Firefighter Ants. Pugilist Ants. Nurse Ants. Doctor Ants. Orthopaedic Surgeon Ants. Weaver Ants. Tailor Ants. Taylor Ants. Farmer Ants. Pastoralist Ants. Mycologist Ants. Nuclear Reactor Worker Ants. General Ants. Invading Ants. Hopeful Ants. Redeemer Ants. Crazy Ants. Yellow Crazy Ants. Caribbean Crazy Ants. Red Fire Ants. Blue Fire Ants. Alien Ants. Alarmist Ants. Climate Change Denying Ants. Politician Ants. Queen Ant. King Ant. Anti-monarchial Ants. Revolutionary Ants. Broken Ants. Excised Ants. Mummified Ants. Archaeologically Important Ants. Looter Ants. Auctioneer Ants. Billionaire Ants. Trust Fund Ants. Flying Ants. Hateful Ants. Manipulative Ants. Pants-wearing Ants. Rockstar Ants. Entomologist Ants. Etymologist Ants. Scholar Ants. Purposive Ants. Anomic Ants. Phratries Ants. Factory Ants. Northern Ants. Impoverished Ants. Opiate Using Ants. OD’d Ants. Lawyer Ants. Crying Ants. Bereaved Ants. Funeral Director Ants. Exploitative Ants. Entrepreneurial Ants. Wallstreet Ants. Protesting Ants. Hopeless Ants. Trampled Ants. Secretive Ants. Idealistic Ants. Naïve Ants. Masonic Ants. President Ants. Policy Maker Ants. Legislative Ants. Judicial Ants. Divisive Ants. Decisive Ants. Demonstrative Ants. Impaired Ants. Echoing Ants. Singular Ant. Lonely Ant. Fearful Ant. Reunited Ants. Adventuring Ants. Confident Ants. Public Speaker Ants. Grieving Ants. Deceptive Ants. Peculiar Ants. Helpful ants. Shamanistic Ants. Religious Ants. Martyr Ants. Passion Bearer Ants. Enraged Ants. Theologian Ants. Biblical Ants. Pope Ants. Bishop Ants. Paedophilic Ants. Pharaoh Ants. Slave Ants. Deliberating Ants. Ducks. Abandoned ants. Trustworthy Ants. Travelling Ants. Interment Ants. Intern Ants. Forty-Hour Weekday Ants. Singing Ants. Loud Singing Ants. Lumberjack Ants. Frightened Ants. Executor Ants. Captor Ants. Renegade Ants. Particle Physicist Ants. Art Thief Ants. Poet Ants. Barge Driving Ants. Harbor Ants. Sailor Ants. Landlubber Ants. Confined Ants. Spouse Ants. Mistress Ants. Bastard Ants. Daring Ants. Famished Ants. Merchant Ants. Educator Ants. Student Ants. In-debted Ants. Necromantic Ants. Brewer Ants. Hegelian Ants. Scout Ants. Pastor Ants. Preacher Ants. Singer Ants. Duplicitous Ants. Egoistic Ants. Gunsmith Ants. Alchemist Ants. Dissuaded Ants. Inhospitable Ants. Cross Bearing Ants. Animal Trainer Ants. Atavistic Ants. Authoritarian Ants. Cultural Centre Worker Ants. Caretaker Ants. Disguised Ants. Plague Bearer Ants. Thousand of Dead Ants. Excited Ants. Architect Ants. IT Ants. Blues Singer Ants. Superhero Ants. Trombone Playing Ants. Plumber Ants. Truck Driver Ants. Prospector Ants. Sickened Ants. Subdued Ants. Allayed Ants. Tightrope Walker Ants. Insurance Dealer Ants. Casino Dealer Ants. Newscaster Ants. Disc Shot Ants. Construction Worker Ants. Green Vested Ants. Psychiatrist Ants. Psychologist Ants. Social Psychologist Ants. Positivist Ants. Enlightenment Ants. Freudian Ants. Poet Ants. Sculptor Ants. Patron Ants. Client Ants. Realtor Ants. Warzone Photographer Ants. Defeated Ants. Blessed Ants. Featureless Ants. Ancient Ants. Burglar Ants. Mayor Ants. Tough on Crime Ants. Police Chief Ants. Hairdresser Ants. Barista Ants. Unemployed Ants. Exhausted Ants. Shattered Ants. Watchman Ants. Unnoticed Ants. Tourist Ants. Frankenstein Ants. Appalled Ants. Cleaner Ants. Maid Ants. Tolerant Ants. Unquestioning Ants. Unflinching Ants. Desolate Ants. Quick Ants. Silversmith Ants. Refugee Ants. Unprecedented Ants. Persecuted Ants. Forgotten Ants. Robotic Ants. Mechanical Ants. Despicable Ants. Vulgar Ants. Buddhist Ants. Native Ants. Invasive Ants. College-educated Ants. Immoral Ants. Amoral Ants. Dictatorial Ants. Dictator Ants. Construction Worker Ants. Venomous Ants. Baby Ants. Baby-kissing Politician Ants. Mother Ants. Father Ants. Father Ants. Ghost Ants. Witch Ants. Burned-at-the-stakes Ants. Prosecutor Ants. Paralegal Ants. Paralympics Ants. Paratrooper Ants. Green Beret Ants. Beret Ants. Andorran Ants. Andean Ants. Potato Farming Ants. Freedom Fighter Ants. Terrorist Ants. Rhetorician Ants. Beggar Ants. Fisherman Ants. Net Maker Ants. Caught Ants. POW Ants. Seasoned Ants. Armless Ants. Veteran Ants. Paranoid Ants. Unloved Ants. Mentally Unwell Ants. Neglected Ants. Social Worker Ants. Underpaid Ants. Overqualified Ants. Teacher Ants. Student Ants. Graduate Ants. High School Drop-out Ants. College Drop-out Ants. Romantic Ants. Romanticist Ants. Decadent Ants. Impotent Ants. Homeless Ants. Sheltered Ants. Soaking Wet Ants. Detective Ants. Buttered Ants. Drunk Ants. Fun Ants. Body Bagged Ants. Crying Mother Ants. Sentimental Ants. Sentimentalist Ants. Pragmatic Ants. Livestock Ants. Vegan Ants. Environmentalist Ants. Overconfident Ants. Underconfident Ants. Overwhelmed Ants. Underwhelmed Ants. Whelmed Ants? Bird-watching Ants. Bird-eating Ants. Bird-loving Ants. Parroting Ants. Colorful Ants. Feathered Ants. Dynamic Ants. Dynamite Ants. Dyson Ants. Tyson Ants. Duck. Son Ants. Sun Ants. Resplendent Ants. Kin Ants. Kindling Ants. Paradoxical Ants. Paradigm Shifting Ants. Asthmatic Ants. Gluttonous Ants. Lustful Ants. Temperance Ants. Temperate Ants. Ill-tempered Ants. Refined Ants. Fine Ants. Fine Ants. Fined Ants. Understanding Ants. Manipulated Ants. Mad Ants. Rioting Ants. Protesting Ants. Righteous Ants. Rightful Ants. Rightless Ants. Left Ants. Homophobic Ants. Cut Ant. Field Ant. Worker Ants. Overworked Ant. Well Worked Ants. Masked Ants. Veiled Ant. Married Ants. Bride Ant. Groom Ant. Crude Ant. Crude Oil Operator Ant. Telephone Operator Ant. Incorrect Ants. Labovian-hypercorrecting Ants. Overgeneralized Ants. Hunter Ants. Gatherer Ants. Primitivist Ants. Confirmed Ants. Gossiping Ants. Well-to-do Ants. Adopted Ants. Foster Parent Ants. Teenage Ants. Convicted Ants. Converted Ant. Baptist Ant. Baptized Ant. Baptized Ants. Baptizer Ant. Baptizer Ants. Holy Ants. Fasting Ants. Westward Praying Ants. Orientalist Ants. Post-colonial Studies Ants. Self-referential Ants. Occidental Ant. Cave-painting Ant. Old Ant. Prehistoric Ant. Historic Ants. Unconfirmed Ants. Machiavellian Ants. Militia Ants. Tuscany Ants. Wino Ants. Alcoholic Ants. Traveller Ants. Itinerant Traveller Ants. Hill Ants. Anthill Ants. Body Horror Ants. Balkanized Ants. Magyar Ants. Roasted Ants. Keto Ants. Paleo Ants. Makeup Artist Ants. Hollywood Ants. Agriculturalist Ants. Pink Ants. Cockney-accented Ants. Wrapped Ants. Tasteless Ants. Oiled Ant. Seared Ant. Übermensch Ant. Metamorphosized Ant. Sonic Ant. Impaled Ant. Crucified Ant. Crucified Ants. Untouchable Ants. Dalai Lama Ant. Nouveau Shamanic Ant. Thespian Ant. Ailing Ants. Butler Ants. Monster Ants. Frankenstein Ant. Eldritch Ant. Pants-wearing Ants. Mycenean Ant. Midas Ant. Fairytale Ant. Questioning Ants. United Ant. Militaristic Ant. Patriotic Ants. Loving Ant. Milk-and-honey Believing Ants. Contra Ants. Student Visa Ants. Outlaw Ants. Country-loving Ant. Bear Ants. Bearable Ant. Unbearable Ant. Swearable Ants. Dependable Ants. Reliable Ant. Dependent Ants. Tax-evading Ant. Tax-filing Ants. Dying Ants. Autonomous-zone Supporting Ant. Communard Ants. Science Fiction Ants. Space Opera Ants. Oldened Ants. Youthful Ant. Lawyer Ant. Psycho Ant. Psychotic Ants. Delirious Ants. Danger-to-oneself Ants. Actor Ants. Dramaturgical Ant. Mortified Ant. Face-Saving Ant. Polite Ant. Proprietor Ant. Passing Ant. Conceptual Ants. Conceptual Ants. Concept.
"A Modern Bruegel"/"Icarus in Christmas"
Inspired by Landscape with the Fall of Icarus by Bruegel.
Shining so bright, oh wonderful Christmas lights
Brilliant red and green on display for our delight
Up upon the houses, arrayed to dazzle passersby
Driving through weary past our little land of buckeyes
But by the railroad track a new color shines through:
Alongside the car roof with red is that frightening blue
Spinning and flashing and attracting all our attention
As we stare in suspense, unable to alleviate the tension
However, soon the scene stays too much the same:
The ploughman ploughs even though Icarus is in frame
And so eyes turn away, railroad track ignored
Eyes towards the lights, Christmas lights so adored
"Red Ridden Hood"
Seven strong men came out of the woods;
They had their axes and their red riding hoods —
Where’s the wolf?
Dead on the bed.
How did he die?
He bled til he’s red.
Oh Granny, oh Granny, what small ears.
Oh Granny, oh Granny, what small eyes.
Oh Granny, oh Granny, what small teeth.
Oh Granny, oh Granny, I ain’t surprised.
Can’t a girl just have something go right?
Instead her lover’s been killed in the night.
Tears of relief;
Least that’s what they seemed.
Tears of her grief;
Never heard the silent scream.
Seven strong men came out of the woods;
They had their axes and their red riding hoods —
Why did he die?
You know why.
What have you done?
We had our fun.
And she never went back to Granny’s no more.
Oh no she danced right back to her fairy tale,
Where the happy ever afters never fail to come.
But she’s forgetting ever afters are only for some.
Happy ever afters only happen for them.
"A Foray to the Afterparty"
I then arrived at the pearly gates overjoyed,
but the doors were closed — there’s a sign
that’s been vandalized that says in bold
This is Private Property
Well ain’t it funny how that sign lets the
whole public know it’s your property?
Not really a secret anymore. I swear I wasn’t
gonna share but your secret’s known just
about everywhere; you sort of told them.
I know that sometimes it’s a crime to loiter,
but I was really bored and took in the view:
(it was more than I could chew)
There were men with big cigars
and their smoke rings were the clouds
There was steak and caviar
the angels fed to the crowds
Then a toast with words that taunted me with
chinking glasses and clamoring all around;
I’ve never felt so down.
Then an angel parked his car and I spoke to the valet about all these things I had to say.
She just shrugged.
I suppose that makes sense.
I just waited.
Saw their comings
& their goings
& I found this odd state of mind where none of it bothered me, just rolled off down the gutter to join the clutter of my worries:
Cockroaches, the IRS, eye doctors, and
success. Lightning too loud, chilly days,
decomposition, and the latest craze. My
bank account, an unmowed lawn, shoes
shoes that squeak, and an accidental
yawn. Mother-in-law, my graying hair, a
missing piece, and the polar bears.
I then scrawled my name with the rest,
for vandalism is just art to me.
I’m too relaxed to care about arrest.
So with a big red pen I wrote:
[Your name here]
Wasn’t much, but at least it was something.
The last thing I saw before the bouncer
Finally came was a shimmer of the big
central koi pond, where nothing swam.
"Heart, Bone, & Marrow"
Your heart whispers words:
of fear? Of love? Perhaps there is
neither in the blood of a dying heart.
The bones break at its words:
the weight of them is overwhelming.
And the heart bleeds over the bones; bones become red and stained like a fumbling vicar. The blood seeps deep into the marrow, and refuses to leave out of desperation unknown. You can never wash out all the blood of the heart from the marrow of the bones no matter how hard you try; it has become a part of it.
Stained now like glass, not tarnished like
cloth idly ignored even when it is worn.
And what of the heart?
It died that day. But it planted deep in the
marrow its blood, and deep in the blood is
the seed of the heart. It will regrow, out of
the marrow, out of bone. It will bleed again
"ABC #1"
Adults, babies, children, dogs:
everyone forgets gratitude;
historic indisposition, journals keep listing.
My neglect overlooked, planet quietly readies
Selfishness —
The unloved visitor welcomes Xanax Yearly
Zoo.
"An Autumn Day"
The autumn comes to
swirl my position.
dis And you know I never
was the kind to ever
really listen.
But even so,
I need the time
so I can position.
re So please just give me
time:
the hourglass/
/raging sands/my demands,
please just give me
time.
I don’t mean to cause
an position, it just so happens that
im possibility is my new condition.
And the birds they sing
softly:
mating calls/
morning songs/devoid of
right and wrong; maybe…
no, no no.
And yet
dream my dream of
dewey eyes and no goodbyes
between ladybugs
and quiet hugs, hushed beneath
an growing, and an
ever flowing blanket of love.
Much too much
you know I know.
But just read my position,
com hold
out hope again the raging light.
st
‘s above not caring
much
anymore — songs long gone unlike the
morning larks
and the nightingales.
By my ad
mission, I’ll up
hold our ten
ets of hope; God knows you won’t,
God, no you won’t.
Sorry to say I have cast our
dreams this way,
it got away (away).
Do you think
angels even know our names?
I think they won’t. That’s
okay.
Hold on tight, things will find a way to let us know our time to stay has come at last.
/the hourglass/my demands/
/raging sands/howl through the night/stars alight/pacing’s bright/midnight falls, all along.
Dance with me
beneath the falling stars
And we’ll catch ablaze and burn brighter
than they ever could before,
we’ll teach them more, or…
Time.
It rushes on,
on from us: to new
horizons level at the sea,
riptide fries
our once (twice) fragile eyes.
Can we see?
What’s that supposed
to mean? We’ll just figure out
— somehow
anyhow.
Just autumn come and please be
gentle to me, and to yourself.