I remember
making a phone call
answered only
to my bleeding ear,
that calm voice
stating
"I Am Away"
and as I
lowered
the phone
and myself
from the fleeting dial-tone
I see in my
mind's unseen eyes
a brilliant girl
with rose lips
and eyes of an angel
and a soul
that flickers from
her mouth
with every softly
spoken soliloquy
like a tempered flame

I remember
when we were thieves
stealing flower petals
off of trees
marooned in the box car sunsets
of San Francisco
where we had wandered
in and out
of sight
of mind
of soul
through cascading memories
and lost visions of home
you taught me then
that home can even
be on the edge
of the world

I remember
pretending to be
great:
poets,
painters,
musicians,
lovers,
Actors
putting on a play
I pulled your strings
you pulled
mine
and we pulled
the strings of night
on top of ourselves
we inhaled cigarette smoke
and coughed out
planets
stars
moons
as we swam through
the trees of
inebriation
and we spoke
with bi-forkated tongues
of another man's wisdom
and reptilian eyes
of a long passed
generation
and you taught me
through italian cafes
and shimmering sky scrapers
that all is a procession.

I remember
dancing upon the teeth
of the laughing skull
of naivete.
Sitting high,
the vagrant wallflower few,
along graffiti scarred
bridges of indecision
and we drank from
the fountains of youth
and tasted the bitter lust
of foreigners.
Where we saw an hour
become a fleeting moment
embedded in a star-struck night
as we kicked sand
into the face of
ancient tombs and pyramids
of desire
and I screamed
through the hallways
of that serpentine city
that we cannot steer
this train called fate
but life still has intrinsic
and esoteric value

And while your music
hung from the street lamps
like quarter note hangmen
we would project ourselves
down long winding roads
to familiar grasslands
where beasts lamented
the darkness of the night
and you said
we are all people
doing the best
with the hand we were
dealt.

But when you spoke
through the sheets
with my tremulant
hands,
eyes,
tears,
you taught me
that we are
only animals
searching for moments
of pleasure
through the fog of
reality.

And I remember,
farther now,
before I knew
the embrace of a thousand
lying eyes
and the daze
of true confusion
when I would bask
in the wisdom of ignorance
and cast the dice of
selfish apathy,
when we rebelled
against the red soundscapes
of Faust
and sailed against
the sharp coasts
of nihilism
existentialism
solipsism
escapism
and knew that
we were the
entire world
without exception
and found no respite
in our coffee mugs
and ash trays
and fashion.

When we ran
with the wolves
of time
through the fields
and forests of existence
and slept under
the bridges
of a mother's love.

But time has carved
a rift between my
eyes,
heart,
soul,
and within these
cavern walls
is a city
of memories
and they cry for rain
and I weep for them.
All prisoners awaiting
execution
by the pulse
of a ticking clock,
a pounding heart,
a chiming bell.

The clock strikes
midnight
and the glockenspiel's
tune
is lost
in the light
of a blue
swaying street
and a cold mountain,
an out-stretched
vein of ink.

You taught me then
that we are all
so petty
and now
only you
are petty.