You said your eyes were clear,
I saw dust and wine ruining time.
Lift my hands and call me home,
Living atheist still ain’t easy.
Jesus, transcendent and ominous light,
Lead my heart into a choice;
Moses helped a shepherd’s flight.
You said your eyes were always clear,
I closed my eyes and saw you dear.
Tag: dust
Blank Slate (day 1321)
I fall awake into the absence of your hands,
Shaking dust into stray beams of sunlight
As I whisper back and forth
With my memory, so strong.
I pull your innocence into my heart
In every deep pull of Chardonnay
Quietly fluttering my anxious wings,
Slowly settling into unheard of figures
Delicately drawn by grand gestures
On blank slates of dust.
Silhouetted Sunset (day 1181)
Jagged line
Horizons mine
Azure to golden dust
Dust Settles (day 877)
And the roofs came down
Inward, sinking
Swallowing everything whole
Begetting darkness
Stillness in silence
When the dust settles
Thrice See Thrice Blind (day 851)
My fingers have turned to dust
Allotting memories two square feet
Of layered hemp paper
Verbally spewing thoughts
That catch like pitch
To unwritten scripts
I’m lost
I’m good with maps
Thine eyes, thrice see thrice blind
Then too shall winds sweep
Lifting footsteps laid deep
Leaving unwritten the paths going back
Discarded (day 825)
Your memory burns holes in my completed journal
Dragging the p’s & j’s around like children in a mall
Pulsing through anything close enough to shake pixie dust upon
Twirls and whistling and long jackets in the night
You’ve wrinkled my conscience into sincere betrayal
Forgotten rhythm through night’s air
Leaving stranded the automobile it drove in on
While cat walking down graces majesty
This is my heart as it dies upon the ground
Squirming into uneasy night streets
Strangled by daylights necromancing
Leaving gutters full of old class notes
Garage Sale’ing (day 815)
Dragging feet
Coin purses
Sifting Dust
Long Forgotten (day 749)
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
Love is sadness that carries golden rays of sun towards dusk
Did sounds of heartache keep you awake at night
Blood oozing from hands that toiled for your fortunate future
Will you still love me when my hands have wrung themselves dry
Sitting here dancing with eyes around the moon tonight
Our dreams dressing up in black and white shoes
Placing our love into lust into locks of curly golden brown hair
Twirling ourselves round and round to the tune of trumpets in summers night air
Will you still love me when my hands have curled against time
Sheltering our eyes against the hours of sunlight
Carefully pulling apart leaves that shelter the garden
Shaking away caterpillars nibbling on precious shards of life
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
When history remains and old friends have long forgotten
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
When the story ends will there still be a thought
Will you still love me when my hands have burned to dust
Ancient Ruins (day 702)
Standing here marked in my sentinel pose
The pigeons have come home, bringing what blows
Shifting time here from then, now, and future
And watching seasons twist before my eyes
Carrying new colours with birth, love, and death
But my purpose has been lost in the changing of regime
What once was a tyrant has now become kindly
Taxes increased, but civil liberties have too
Blinking slowly I become a shifting flower of dust
A shocking array of memories unwritten
While passersby brood and confuse points on maps
And come more and go, pigeons of flight
Remain here in harbour, remain here at rest
Peace (day 495)
Did you cry when I left you there at the cements edge?
Treading lonely along the gravel paths that flirt with the edges of grass
Sunsets that pull at the hairs on the neck
Old boats that wait at the end of the docks
Did any of this make sense to you when you cleaned out the dust?
I filtered out the crap that flowed through the pipes below the uneven cobblestones
I crawled over the little places that stuck into the darkness like the night
Forgetting about the passenger bags that crawled along the benches
Filling up the pouches of candy that floated about edges of sanity
Greedy lips that worked their magic with pieces of love
Stuffed into greedy cheeks that held their peace with clouds
And then the sun set, and the peace was felt
As the dust trails floated off into the distance