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 tune
Tag: the dreaming
time to threads
wasting away
synaesthesia
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 homewings in bloom
Photo by Alice Alinari on Unsplash 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...jopy
Photo by Paul Bill on Pexels.com 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 nightdown that back hall
Photo by Vladislav Nahorny on Pexels.com 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 hallnorth away home
Photo by Janke Laskowski on Unsplash reaching for
something profound
in red dog dreams,
coming up with
handfuls of dust
wondering if
pale hands will
finally carry me gentle
under the wave &
north away home
