Brain Songs

I smoked a clove, pacing these meadows, each thought a face; while sober this hunt, preparing for songs, as years pass by; this green river, to want returns, where mother was gentle; as a young soul, prior to eyes, this inward destiny; parted by graves, singing of wealth, this deep within; to know this town, traveling highways, this image a bit dark; while gripping bars, and staring at phones, brave enough to pause; that lonely trail, filled with jewels, a bit too partial—to midday blues, awaiting trumpets, that last call; where stars appear, nudged by ghosts, as a phantom awakens. It had to be us, those torn regrets, a brain of bells ringing; that needed push, as to seek a fortune, while souls remain distant: this sore event; while judged as broken; whereto, this kingdom of knells. I wrung a soul, dripping into cloth—this mystic handkerchief—afloat those winds, screaming at silence, while speaking at spirits—this place we died, whereby, to rise, a phoenix at his front door; to remember years, pacing through dungeons, kneeling as to touch roses; that space we knew, that gripping of ribs, those sudden anxieties. We’ve traveled deserts, as plush as memories, clear across a thousand words; to finally let go, this mercy we sought, as to awaken desire: torched in souls; scorned inside; an unraveled scroll; where it wasn’t real, this fair illusion, this beauty a dream—a scar. I never loved in vain, tortured by pleasantness, a legend to a fantasy; to rub a vase, peering at futures, to know it isn’t us; this vague feeling, forging ideals, if but to live. I’m wringing this life, a picture in a grain—somewhere his frontal lobes. I petted a lizard, to wrestle a crocodile, running through meadows; to see a face, arms reaching, to see us cross but disappear; so more to living, as to enter brains, this inner passion; where love is partial, as lagoons flood—with this mental substance; whereto, are territories, plunging into dormant realms, where secrets awaken: that terrible beauty; those welkin wings; that rain too thick to trek; or a marvelous embrace, too young to remember, this faceless woman.