Work Quickly

Those cool breezes track the morning light. Illuminating instead of heating, they play tricks on morning commutes.The sun has yet to find its coffee left by the moon. I am yet to find my coat. Or one warm enough, you tell me to match the three protecting you. So the winds pick up and the sun hits the snooze alarm. The coffee grows cold. The nascent light hides behind brick and mortar shells. And I am left with freezing chest and sore throat and you are left with a sick and sorry man lying in your bed,
waiting for you.

A Terrific Promise

The bright sky
smiles endlessly,
bathed in yellow, pink, blue
and moon,
stagger and sets itself,
strangers playing music in the night,
a forecast overcast,
in the not yet night, gloomy

A sparrow song,
delicate and sporadic and his,
a drifting cloud
intolerable, the martyr for thoughts
and dreams and lies and truths,
a simple chord believed,
for those who wish to play with fools
Distorted beauty ends too soon

A Brave New World

Competing Narratives

These things are quite juvenile. 

Some operate without us.

Fostered by those who love, not knowing. Those unaccustomed to conscious thought. 

ignore the signs, the murmur, the crashing silence. Waiting.

An arrangement of flowers, on the surface, dew covered and
blighted by age, water, thirst, hunger
a truth, unwarranted.

Two giants, risen, worshiped. Loved. Like Gods but held. In their hands
Loved. In their arms, rotten, Loved.

A truth denied. The blue light of televisions, in constant motion,
flicker, flicker, die. Unchanged, unmoved, Blue.

Transitional, untouched, imploring. Walking high rise morality
thunderous applause.

Hold your ears, the blue penetrates them. A memory. Compulsory

Compulsive. Bleeding into you. Me. I. We.
Voices in the woods, paper burning,
burning your eyes, sweet to smell,
Hot.

On your face it burns. Bathing you....Me? Which...?
Words. Orders. Lives. Good. Bad. Toxic. Intoxicating.
Fortunate. Us. Charming. Favor. Blue.

Alive.

Dead.

A tunnel, unending. A beacon.

A blue light, artificial. Watching.

Follow.

Follow.

Escape

We are escape. We escape. Escaping, Renewed. The gun turrets turn.
Magazines, empty. Laughing at the world. Remorseful, watching, longing.
The gates closing behind, four wheels. Guns blazing harmless pressured air. A symphony played in whistles, silenced. We escape, in silence. Followed. Guns trained. Terror trained. Wheels digging clouds. A tornado blind. We.You. I. We are the Escape.

Sweet Some Losses

And the bitter nectar
of golden flowers
flakes in your hair,
binding us
to winds unchanging,
gesturing north
an equivocal compass,
a dimmed star,
following behind,
resplendent,
a liar quoting truth
collecting belief
arranging them in clever patterns
to be spun again.

Triumph in December

I've ignored you
sweating warm neglect
in the freezing winds,

it's December
and everything is blank whiteness
dying, renewed;

There are wolves in the forest
passing by, and silent
ancient reliefs from petty stone,
a hoax, a skeptic, a pleasure
and you unspoken,
unwritten,
at home.