Saturday, January 7, 2017

Shatter

Sometimes the sky is meteoric
Black sheen glossy obsidian dark
And I can see the hands reach down
From trembling inverted mountain peaks
As the framework rafters bow and scream
I see the silver fish
In the sidewalk gutter gardens
As they move the moon carves up their backs
Making empty nests for writhing birds 
That speak warnings in whispers
Of winter upon us
The dark is coming to lay down 
Like a lover at my feet to rest on my body
To pull me under and eat my thoughts 
Until I am empty and hollow and freezing
Until my head is just a radio
Filled in between with the cries
Of the sun and the weaving of the waves
Of the great invisible rivers 
That run through my fingertips 
And point at the north star
Everything is slipping downward 
Some intimate black box hold
Like barbecue lenses and train turntables
Catatonia speaking cotton
Bach and the invisible harmonica dreaming
Quilt weighted beaches 
Remembering wet sheets and drowning
And then you say something
And the world sets back in
Everything so clear

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