Day arrives
with a quiet sigh of life
Hills
The features of earth’s face
under a cold sun
The soft smell of winter air
The times I enjoyed
Drank deep from the cup of poison
of life
So far ago
So long afar
So lost
Friends I loved
Scattered and torn
by me
by them
by time.
*
The weekend night
When I saw
the love I might not have
When I saw
time in the night sky
She flew over and left us stranded
On our hills
In our valleys
Alone
and would it hurt?
Yes
Yes
Yes
and would I still long
and love
and see slow rain?
Yes
Yes
Yes
Would I cry?
No
The pain would tear me apart
spill my blood
The hate would hurt all the world
Sinking like grey rain
Poison from above
crawling like insects – in.
*
Crystal ships of blood
Float silently in the air
Cunning carpets
crawl across the floor.
Still longing
Still loving
Dead still
Still dead.
*
Toadstools twist in the twighlight
in the night
And I’m alone again
Not sorrowful
Not fearful
but cold and numb
and open
In my lonesome mind
in my lonesome skull
in my numb body
The curtain drops again
The parrody under the stars
begins again
and the actors: Me and I
tangle and twist in imaginary time
She touches me
Soft sensation
again
Soft tender sensation
again
A bullet to my brain
She’s awoken me
and I can see
and love
and cry.