***

Write in white my mind
Tell me how, tell me how
Stories and origins of the mind
Let the ink cross my hand
Alas! Do not let it dry.
My days, they go by gallows songs
Today by you, on the morrow, on the go...

And I cry a wordless litany
For those instants crossing my way
Breaking my embrace, cleansing my slate.
And then, my voice is reduced
To the empty, skilful words of my eyes
Rapid reconstructions of fragments
Some groundless, artificial, corrupted
Others, broken into silence.
And then, my spirit forgets the solace
Of the justice found in truth
Captured in the commodity of the isolation.

The sweetness of touching many walls,
Yet breathing nothing in.

26 February 2017

***

10 August 2016

Photo by Nicola Davison Reed

Withered heart, hardened skin,

Time marches on

Dragging our bodies to the Sun.

The day begone, bygone the charm.

Sweetened lips, your tender youth,

You run afar

Hauling us off to the bell jar.

The day begone, bygone the charm.

Saddened sleuth, forgettable kin,

We bleed you away

Memory in slumber, will never neglect.

The day begone, bygone the charm.

Maps on strips, vigorous embrace,

Grasping my heart

The day begone, bygone the charm.

The day begone, bygone the charm.

And the world will turn, your eyes intact,

Stories resembling yesterday's lives.

And the valkyries will sing no stars aligned,

My lineage lost, your urges denied.

The day begone, bygone the charm.