yesterdays and used to bes
have drifted back to dream
and even the old songs seem
out of tune to me...
nameless hours spent drifting
between queen and crow
or crow and queen but
it is really all the same to me
drumbeat your pale hands,
my chest
for that is all i want or need
at the drawing of dream
memory ghosts, my bride
at sentinel bone pale cliffs
standing over seasides
a knot twin tangled
to night crossed of moon
and apples adrift of air
long gone yet linger
perfumed raven of hair
shipping to shadow of morn
catching a song of you
cresting over wings in bloom...
i'm not sure if
we managed to kiss
everywhere jopy tagged
his byline downtown but
we sure as hell tried
even there in the unsubway
with northern lights burning
out our heads with
drunken hands just trying
to hold on to the night
...pain washes
pain washes
pain washes
pain washes
pain washes
pain washes...
paper tiger encouragements
feast on the ghosts of we
entangled in our entitlements
tethered by our broken dreams
we are all piano fingers
now, tickling ivory hours
slipping to oblivion
down that back hall
dust mote whispers ears
in the golden autumn sun
twining fingers under shadow
down that back hall
the notes faded ivory
lace dusted yellowed
photo moments slip away
down that back hall
in the cauldron season
reconciling liminal me
standing bíle and center
both eyes to boiling sea
born of raven and apple
kin to the stone
thorn prick'd and blooded
given to bone
riding the crests,
sailing to home
waves — lands — skies
center standing, i ash
holding to wights
& to wraiths
& to the very small
a headful of pastfall
hearth gathering
in the myrk & gloam
waiting for their coming
home
let us go beyond naming and
enter the spirit of the matter—
tear down the fences that divide
this bone is not bone, it is bone
this flesh is not flesh, it is flesh
this stone stands beyond stone
wash away the scarlet boundaries
cast by the plough, hewn by scythe
listen to the small known by "night"
needlethreading the dream
fragile in porcelain pale
stitching her fabric close
shift skies on the flint
slip steel on white
a twist, a turn, on veil
shadow scrim moving thin
shadow unmine, carry
beyond this windtorn coil