"Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn."
In the fading light of tomorrow,
Every wish gets weighed with great precision
On the edge of the lonely island,
Where the river fluxes into indecision
And I wander along the cliffside,
Hoping to find a sign to use, or borrow —
But there’s nothing but gold, and rhythm,
In the fading light of what’s left of one
Tomorrow
the last lone bird at sunset come
to pick whatever’s left or right
upon the winter docking bay,
the guiding edge of light and night —
this age is likely better now:
we thrive on leveraged mockery
and straggle on to pick our line
toward prison or
the lottery
the world exploding with balloons
in psychedelic disarray
with golden skies and shelter tunes
from some forgotten dossier
the fragmentary bits of sense
that some would call hallucinant
but that for me are just my life
a neurophasic
accident
for something like a purpose
she set out, wondering —
a doe among
the buzzards and the wolves
i met her on the corner of
eleventh and erasure —
the one who gives
can still be one who culls
for she’d learned from the undergrowth,
a rustle in the Vedas,
the cold of iron
too tight to her skin
and i had learned from atrophy,
and some from Paul McCartney,
but not enough for her
to let me
in
multicolored venom
pouring everywhere and anywhere;
the quicksand drip that holds you in its snare,
your beads and denim –
psychedelic malice
marble overdrive and underrun:
the mortal day, the everlasting fun,
corona borealis –
sepsis and thalidomide,
darkness on the edge of town,
danger, joy, and habit going down,
but we can say
we tried
I held you closer than
A wonderment of everything we ever
Knew that you were further gone than
What we wished for but could never
In a flash it all was
Over by a stream in fields of
Clover up and down and back and round for
Love love love
Semicolon
Love
a dragon twists on wings of fire, flowers in the opal clouds, spiraling, then swooping higher, distant until night haze shrouds love my only friend is waiting, tiring at the close of day, like a dragon fire abating as it makes its distant weary way
