Bones of ebony ivory drunk ate sing
Shaping the plates numbered nailed
Narrows nine hanging sneakers.
A fading necklace
Tying her laces.

Know yourself to the wells of valleys,
She sang, her voice was swelling
Understand yourself like the
Valleys leading wisely
To the eternal tides.

Cliffed-edge hanging dresses blowing
A flag below her waist over wheels
Of her brave weathered suitcase.
Crystal wing bends portraits of
Dinner plates in place.

Lush hair lady ebony-pale ivory sang Through the valleys dressed like
Her portraits of dining plates
Which weathered storms
She would have chased.

I was the rain that
Lands on the
Sleeve of your umbrella
Gracefully falling
Unseen
Into the touch of your palm.

My pillow melting my
Head the roasted Submarine Submerged sinking beneath
The tears downreaching.

Time is punctual.  
    I, not always.
Time is immortal.
      My life awaits.
         Time does not wait
             For anything it creates.
                       Time reminds us
                       Only when it's late.
Time is everything I am not yet.

Are you flying or are you just a cloud?
Am I
Flying or
Am I
Just
A cloud?
Are you flying or am I just a cloud?

And life is your
Music that slows down
As time kicks
Like the gravity
Of shoes falling from our feet
For lifting them too high;
The inevitable mortal arrives.