It’s
a sky-fall,
surrounded
in crystals,
kneeling
at a millpond;
to
break a trestle,
in
need of change,
that
closer unborn—and
shifting
through feelings,
the
night to speak,
to
fathom the great phantom;
for
this are eyes,
a
whetstone dream,
as
vibrant as epiphanies;
so
more the life,
to
break the tavern,
as
tears shimmer through love:
the
face as pouty,
the
heartbeat strong,
a
tent of radiance;
to
charge airways,
to
sit through a gaze,
to
embark upon a voyage;
for
mornings glisten,
a
racing pulse,
that
flooded the horizon.
I
couldn’t sleep,
to
speckle the spectrum—forever
this
force.
We
live as yachts,
afloat
the seas,
to
outsoar a neighbor’s novel;
to
condition life,
as
false as fancies,
a
moment in a coffin;
where
love is shattered,
to
grip a stranger,
to
blame a stranger—for
such
as pain,
to
float freely,
and
angry as Hades.
