Wonder

Blacken'd are the years,

with every day that past

swift as the solar winds,

evr'y day I sit here under the stars

and wondered why,

at rest, climates wander...

even as the hands of time play

revolving 'round the Daisy's dial

the glitter behind closed eyes

shewn the way,

lost,

like dreams in repose.

Oddly Familiar

Fling away...melting like wax

another day

flows down the drain

still

like oil to water,

we sleep in the same bed,

as the anointed portion of our love

pour down the rocky cliff

congealed

in the empty spaces,

like some forbidden fruit,

wet with anticipation ripened and red

soon the gentle breeze fits our mood...

'cause the darkness drifts like smoke,

all the weary legs, all the weary smiles,

lost in the drums...

Sweet like honeyed dawn,

embraced in something oddly familiar,

satin drenched in sweat

trailing out into the bedroom floor

like molasses,

on a pin-drop sky.

Streaks Follow

Fell, fallen in to the lake,

by the window, frozen on the mirror

an image of the snow,

stained like ancient silver,

it's warm enough by the fire,

dying embers burst like fireworks,

stare, gaze unto the bottom

quickly look away, and

the streaks follow, like sharp knives

of gold on the horizon,

One more drink, and it's off to bed...

With our arms entangled,

arrested in the sheets,

like photographs stuck together,

too long in a dusty old book,

The ground seems to swell...

Ten Faces

Dripping wet in the misty morn,

ten faces at the bus stop,

with 7am so sure on their brows,

another day ahead...it was supposed to be

sunny

they said...

but here in the winter fog, ten faces studied one another,

one was clearly possessed:

with twirling keys in a tight pocket,

jingling and jangling - surely up for promotion...or worse..

Another reeked of the corner tavern:

one-dollar cigarettes and Old Crow,

it must've been quite a night,

stationed at the bar like a moth to flame,

certain glances lost...another fantasy revealed,

in dark eyes...

And then there was the girl at the end of the line:

a slave to the vine,

asleep in her mind, you could tell -

with a faint smile, the golden warmth of her sheets,

betrayed a silver lining -

the low scream of midnight was nothing compared to

a seat at the overlooking the breath of dawn...

Ten faces stood together, better left anonymous -

so soon to be raised again like fire,

let's meet here again tomorrow!