Gaping valleys,
Asylum-colored.

Spaced enough to
Let daytime prevail
And to let horrors imagine themselves
In the black lung membrane
Of 3 a.m.

Off                   comes my slip, socks, sanity and an echo
Goes                 up my spine.  
The                   men
Film                  my sinking heart  
And                  dive into the  
Filth                  plastered against my mind without a thought  
Of                      what moments define me.
That                  girl who used to wear a  
Shirt                  embroidered with flowers and had a mother  
Making             her a meal with love is now working the  
Room               with what's left of her.
For                    -ward motion depicts nothing
More                 than bones and memories never cherished.

I

the river
                          soars
like sun white
horses galloping,
shimmering, glistening

the gallop a harmony
of cacophony
to my listening eyes

what an idyllic
                           sky pink-azure
bringing excellence to rest.
tomorrow the white river
horses will fly like jazz
to my listening eyes

II

half stuttered premonitions ease
at sight of indigo accented flowers.
                  in goat land, clouds turn
                  to white wisps of doves.
the mountain
                            is
                                   with us
a chipmunk at the summit
makes waves through the landscape
dancing like a tambourine

wishes and hopes curl
around my face enveloping
me in Washington air

I see you looking at the chipmunk
and smile like

          really nice,
          your
                    smile
                                is
          really really

          nice