Throughout

I cast my soul across the room.
It skitters like marbles,
across the stone tile.
Clacks and pings.

A slender thread of gossamer
seals my hope.

Do you see me?
Do you feel me?

I am an electric passage
in a moldy book, carefully placed.
Discover shredded tin upon your tongue.
Feel the angel’s breath upon your shackled heart.

A muffled rip
and your heart casts dusty specks
throughout a room lit slantly with lemon sun.

This is yours.
This is all of you.
And I am as you are.

The keepers of the wind beckon my return.

Return

Happy is the man!
Content is the fire
that swells
within a torrid heart.

Brief is our dance
with an ephemeral gasp.
Crowded, our thoughts,
with a deluge of fearsome
longings.

Twist off.
Sheared and shorn
like a slaughtered lamb.

Dream of collated light
through a broken canopy.
Warm sighs.

What is the product of your reality?
A broken lash of flesh?
A vacant gasp?

Grease and sweat habitate,
pull forth a broken child.
Squander a dying star.
Meager asymtopes
scrape along.

Dream of illuminated sweat,
screaming love.
Dance upon a broken star you child
of creation’s heaven!

Breath your last in freedom.

Whispy drafts of her forlorn cares,
amplified
by a roiling beckoning
of fractured heart and vacant dreams.

Having streamed her anger
like a bitter sap,
I recoil at the vapid sting
which dresses my mouth
like a ruby curse.

An alabaster prison.
A darkened glimpse.
A broken longing.
A slender curve torn by
a passing glance.

Stay.

Decrepit nobility.
Nebulous mornings churn
as they always have.

“A yoke for my neck?”
Freely granted.
Witness the teeming hills clamoring as sun-slaked men
scrape for water.

Chthonic underpinnings.
Lavender souls,
their quickening delayed
by a velvet chain.

The dawn closes just as she awakes.
Her sweeping gaze a torrid curse,
a blinding yawn.

Reveal.

Visage

Visage of a gristled slab,
directed flesh caught
within polished stone.

Muted scrawls vanquish
a broken desire.
Feet scrape across raspy planks
towards a speckled dawn.

I long for a torpid desire,
a creaking, throaty moan,
the quivering trees my only witness.

Bless the upward gaze,
the furtive longing,
the silent destiny.

Debts

I owe you a sunrise.

That morning,
the frost
crept across the dark tendril of road.
Cracked stone shattered and popped.

The sour bite of spent tire
spilled and rolled into the
field, crisp with blue shadows
thrown by a nascent glow.

Destiny and
Silence

A surreal fear
congealed across my heart.

Someday.