taken on a journey
to a place i could never go
by
a paintbrush
Pandiatonic and encircling,
In wind and waves of sound,
A song of connection and
Contemplation,
Surrounding and
Full of the numinous
swamps
red
with reeds
in autumn
placemats on tables
set for sleeping green giants
as the clouds, the original blimps, soar above —
the storm rolls in and over her;
a world of changing metaphor:
of summer sunlight turned to rain –
to dark and damp and ever-pour –
inside the rainbow of her dreams,
yet lives a shadow, once in light —
the storm rolls in and covers her,
and helpless day gives way
to hopeless
night
i stop and marvel at the sight,
to just take in the view:
the city shines its best tonight –
and so, my dear,
do you
every day, the voices calling,
colors swirling, shadows falling,
every night, the bits of aching,
dreams so close too far for taking —
every morning, sitting silent,
angry news and world gone violent,
evening each, they push and pull her,
grasping for some bits
of color
sometimes,
what is real
cannot be seen
clearly
we’re covering the same old ground,
on each word, we obsess:
the fields are neat and ordered, but
the human heart’s a mess
things go as they are wont to go;
they come, and pass away —
new crops upon the same old ground,
another
yesterday
i tangled you in snow because
you tangled me in dreams;
i sought you in november, by
a thousand frozen streams
you bade me to remember that
a heart was made for breaking;
despairing winds were blowing, and
like me, the leaves were shaking
i tangled you in dreams because
you mangled me in snow;
in cold november once, beside
the fields of long
ago