Words have fallen out of history.
Loiter in subconscious cellars,

There, just out of reach

untethered to ignorance whispering

in gossip ears faith of certain collapse

I know something beyond is shimmering

my fingers stretching an arm to retrace

an angel holding word of heaven listening

to dreams flying by toward eternity

taunting this earthbound calamity.

These bars holding me in
or are they keeping them out?
Always this seeming mystery.
The vowel and consonant hear their wings.
Briefly, colors infrared to ultraviolet born from gray.
Will they move toward that tunnel light
lingering far in distant away?
too poor to pay.

up past its cloud of ever-after
busy with all that is over
never sees what takes flight.
A butterfly rising up seeking
forgetting where it was leaving
or exactly whom was crawling.
All they needed was a beginning.
Stories come close to sip our nectar
riding molecules of instinctual lust
mandates of need cry time is falling
how can love know what word to trust?


Here on this ground
these shadows gather close

In fogs quiet and deep buried rust

where nothing grows wild or upright

below this history’s crumbling crust

who knows that day became night.







Tags can be inspiring to me. Some of my blogroll comes from reading them.

{September 30th images. Photo from this afternoon in side yard, and poem I made in another wordpress blog comment box. Referring to that persons procrastination and issues with writing. I tried to convey some freedom from spontaneity amidst common existential questionings. But what I really meant to say was…}