shuffling off & cutting ties
gone to drift on pale winds
clutching at fragments only
to toss useless scraps away
4 u c —
i realize this coil lies barren &
there is only death & dream
this debt is beyond counting
and all that is left is
to serve out my time
i slip
an ophelia amongst the reeds
waiting for a mercy kiss
to set me free
Tag: the dreaming
coil lies barren

night skin you, day skin you
a dream of
night skin you & day skin you
crawling from the barrows
to give to hold, drinking you in
before the everblind
leave me to slumber at
the foot of your altar
with peekaboo sunshine
warming the empty of eye
let this mantic fade from view
a nightmare of
night skin you & day skin you
crawling from make-dust
from the depths of our youthletters
having earned
my place in oblivion
i fold up my dreams
with their creases
and worn out folds
faded blue lines and
penciled words
and send them
to those swift waters
running under
a creaking old bridgetime to threads
time to threads sever.
pluck thin at beak to hand
frayed twist of warp & wool
sunder and scissor send needle
razor cascade the skin through
blister thorn blister torn
lost teeth at crumble, too
time to threads sever,
slumber, forget there was ever
a tunesynaesthesia
your winter taste
in dreamkiss
paints me in din
let this shamble sing
in threes without waking
i never want to leavelarking
another nordeast night
chasing phantoms
through busy streets
hands in hand
feet never touching ground
as the crowds gather 'round
for the samhain fires
would the i could
i would be larking
there stillrestitution
my jawbone in hand
waving away at wraiths
i offer this token for all
the insults & cruelties
it is not much, agreed
but it may yet yield
glass satisfaction at
the end of your fiststolen knot wings broken

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Pexels.com she returned
my stolen knot wings broken
and gave me whale
mixed with trinkets and scorn
to prove that she was well
she is not well
i slipped my wings
gently back on
gave the whale
to my pocket
to contemplate
later on
slipping through door
in the wee soul hours
shuttered and locked behind
wayfaring the north road home




