I like old glass
with bubbles

Pockets of breath
of the dead laid to rest

I break and I breathe and I taste

Their spices
and vices

Kisses from wives
Curses and verses

Songs of themselves
Wine of their wrath

Salt from their baths

Smoke from their fires
Sweet tastes of desire

Shared sighs and cries
Dead butterflies

Air.

God stared down at the Earth below him
and burst into tears.
"What happened?" he whispered.

I fell off a bridge.

I saw him standing bright and shining.
So  I strode out in his light,
basked in it sure footed burning within
a thousand sons of love,
burnished without by it until bronzed.

The light it blinded me, bound my lips
with love.
I did not look where I was going for I was crazed clumsy by Cupid.

Flying is freedom, falling is not.
Acclerating as Newton's chains pull, falling is lonely,
falling is fast.

The water broke my heart open,
cleansed it cold,
took out the Fool's gold and
covered me in nebulas of dark night.

My eyes were full of cold sharp waterfalls
that made me see sharp and true, inky blue.
My mouth now a lily pad sitting silent waiting for frogs.

But I am Light now. I float. I swim.

They say that there is one
I at the heart of a storm.
This is not true.
There are two.

Butterfly blue and Phoenix ash grey,
The other molten wood full of firefly flicker.
Looking in, Looking out.

Moonlight cord taut between two like a bowline straining
in the tide.
The only glint in the earthly waves crashing, two points the only
anchor.

The treeline stands as sentinels,
Offering crowns to the crescent moon.
The rooted column of soldiers
Witness the slender shadow as it grew.
A thumb sized fairy in its hand,
Bent double to whisper tidings
Of human flesh on sacred land.
That which is sacrosanct
Can not so easily be swayed!
As all the beasts of myth and nightmares
Charge on into the fray.

The knight finished taking a **** against the tavern wall,
The last defence of the realm, children and us all.

Well.....

That and trebuchets,

Spears,

Swords.

All the tools of war.

Far beyond the Forrest front
Pride, The Lord of Man
Forges ill thought plans
Lazily playing chess, cavalier
With the lives of pawns.
Thoughtlessly moving pieces with
Trembling blood stained hands.

Away from the white Stork feathers
Often seemed to be gentle breeze
On Kans grasses
Superficial white clouds
Small dinghies on the river
To navigate the life

Far away on the bridge
The Silent movement of the Brahminy kite
Southern breeze blew
Tilting the tall grasses toward the North
Leak of the light fell into the Kans,
Into the Soft green grasses

Sunlit mingled with light fog
Seek heavenly feeling
Without the knowledge
The lips Stir of

Walking beside the river
Barefooted
In the air Kestrel's mystic music
The river running with full of chime

What are the forms of you!
Thee bind me with deception!
What a Strange tune!
What those thirsty words!

So that I draw your image
Moving away from the shadows
Soft light blended with the estuary
Away,
Little by little,
To see your face
Like the rig of Ship

Behind the path
A magical dream
Seems like a White Shirt  
That I had left in the Kans grasses

his paper it is parchment
while his pen is quill
he writes to help the moments
in life to stand still

he has neither camera
nor a brush per say
in which to show the pictures
of life that he displays

all he has is imagination
and the ones that find
they'd like to see a bit further
into this artist's mind

so he takes a piece of parchment
and grabs a hold his quill
writing down in verses
the moments in life that he stands still