I bow to no man, god, nor country,
But for you I would take a knee.
Walk upon a shore of glass
Proclaim vows unto the sea.
A voice once lost in tides,
The winds and ocean swell.
Found again once more upon
Echoed whispers of a shell.

One day when we are old,
Yet not so old that wonder's lost.
We'll talk again once more of love,
Of loss and wanderlust.
While whiskey warms our aging bones
Waging war against the frost.
Our tales turn to pantheons
And the follies of fallen gods.

The metal streets whir
And the buildings creaks with the shuffling of gears
Progress and movement pumped with hydraulics
Steadily compressing us into a cube of 1s and 0s

But here I will sit in the centre
Palms pressing into the walls
hunched over a children’s book
First key to my world,
First window to my mind
These pages folded into Prometheus
From spark to fire to light

Those podium sitting,
silver-eyed,
shadow-head figures
Look through binoculars searching for
Secrets in their numbers and passwords in their data

But here in my shoebox observatory
I will hold the library of Alexandria
And I will not let the future burn again

Disagree with me
Ever which way on a tree
Branch follows no one

He had that
groaning soul
loneliness, like a
puffy white cloud,
floating aimless and
aching toward the
black abyss- that gray sky
sadness,
like he was
five years old, and just
watched his dog get
hit by a car.
You could smell
the pain- taste it
like potato chips on a
sore throat.
It smelled like a
basement or cobwebs.
I told him,
'Nothing will fix that
****- just time and dirt.'
He didn't blink,
and his soft walnut eyes
flashed
crossword confusion.