Sadness

For that is only what we seek.

The roads, the valleys, the ripened dreams in solidarity,
To a handful weaved of a ghost aubade in speech
Evoking contingent flames unmourned, and embraced
As the shaken birth from the morning, I starve the feathered dreams,
As I no longer follow through with the nightlong autumn near the glass,
I hope we don’t forget each other, and that we will remember
The wind that passes through the roots, and the river rocks that sought for better dirt

Frayed dreams (as one).

As the quarry impels us in silence
In the blue sanctuary
The side of steel, twofold
With a rise in the sky by the masts,
And our minds, wormed with
Ice, and fragments of speech,
For darkness was ceaseless

A dream suspended from sanctuary.

The partition of light slides upon the red, pale rocks shielded by the cluster of streams, a fossilized hue of the starlight in the refusal of blustering dreams.
A mere smudge of waterlogged forbidden Arcadia—tasseling a present vanishing in exile a solemn midsummer darkness prowling the streets in your memory.

Nightfall.

as I fall deeper into the silent
moon and I whisper
into a darkened room before sleep
‘I give my words beyond the nile and
‘I give my words by the river
all into a darkened night to keep…’

Mid-Dream.

Winter beats the cold orchids into the wind that is frail as bone,
Where memory passed darkly as the ocean-white dream
That is the faint mesa that trails of rocky red in the sun-set,
Which is the winter mid-dream on a night of silence, my sorrow again,
That will dwell in faint winds during the late dawn
Blinded by the hyacinth that gave silence within the moorland

The Shadowed Sea.

And when the shadowed sea slicked,
The dead moon of the sea was watchful,
And in its glare, with thy dead streams,
Lapped once with earthly stars,
And there birthed the era to be

As I Lay Before You.

I’ve laid before you, darkness all I’ve mapped, all alone,
Those little taps, and the enlightenment of voice from birth
Intrigue the remembrance of once I had,
And all I held, and all I’ve left and sought,
And loved, I’ve loved! The cruelty of son,
Told that the son branched take on this

As I’ve Forgotten Between the Wind.

Like soil with collective stems of a crooked rock
That brushed your fingers, all dampened,
That a mother would tell you to wash up,
Hurry on; but as I’ve remembered,
An olden, washed face, only ashen in lengths,
As I’ve forgotten time in between tonight,
And the best the day had hummed
The song of the copious endorphin springs