Failing grace ,
vapidlust in a
Vanguard of light .

A tolling bell
filling the hours
with the melody
of the color of art .

Moist green moss
on a deadfall log
jealousy in the age
of marrow.

Floating through the
eye of the wolf
into the farms ,
forests and fields .

Trying to see past
that fog on the mirror
to a beauty most desired.

To kneel in the water
and rise again born
to a new world .

A quickening of the undertow,
happiness as intense as pain
slips beneath the waves .

How do you sleep
when your dreams
cast shadows on
the innocent.

Fewer rewards
than number nine.
Flags in the fields
raised high over
forsaken vows .

The guarded moon
crested
the sliding, sad , singing dunes
and the sorrow filled bell
Tolled and tolled
and tolls still .

Salt heavy on the wind
of Gods grief.
Death on the tracks
more than a feeling
so vague and ethereal.

My eyes were 
locked and loaded
with steel and gin .
I felt the rattler
stirring in my blood.
The echoes of a
thousand screams
soaked in the skin
of my *****.

Reeds thick in the shallows
wall off the blood
made of darkness.
A pale blue smokey haze
of sadness, strength and grace .

I struck a match
on infinities smile .
Half a hundred candles
burned in prayer .

Floating to the surface
of Artisan Row
to take my dying slowly.

Natural innocence
and simplicity,
a glorious arc
of rainbow charity.
The pulling of silk
through the loom,
a magnificent child
of the storm.

Holding pureness
feeling my love
without knowing.
Asleep at the wheel
of just being born .
The silence was deep ,
sweet and sad .
Her every breath was
a provision of
sacred order .

I had an absolute
vision ,
a prelude of silent
music .
The wind sang
sweet melodies
born of time
and starlight.

The music asked questions
of the breeze,
to butterflies and angels .
But , was answered in
a thunderous storm.

Disintegrating realms
of hope .
Who will advocate for
a beloved soul .

Life’s wounds move on
but , we are left
with the scars .

A single lonely Sparrow cries.

He will never be back
from infinity .
Apprenticeshipped in the
guild of disaster.
He slipped through the mist
and into the darkness .

The intensity of dreams
the banditry of ideals
The insane factory of
covert conclusions.
Fragments of wisdom .
Music lost in a
time continuum.
It should have been his
time to judge the fury
of the wildflowers in a storm .
Unnerved by silence
I watch from a house
without words .

An innocent, cruelly
struck by fate .
He was a friend
of Dorothy’s
and a friend of mine .
He will never see the rainbow
from the inside out .

A sensitive man
draws ire .
He was where the butterflies
and the Angels come
to be born .

He lived from the inside out .

Comfort in remorse .
Torment in conscience.
Regret in waves of
aching emotions.
I cry for atonement
and a salve
for my soul .

That mysterious light
that came from him .
Also came me and from
everywhere and everything.
But , I just could not see ,
Inside out !

Window shades half open
a warm summer breeze.
Soft conversations
drifting up from the street.

Smoke from a candle
feather pillows
and lace .

Spiced wine , red apples,
cool satin sheets.
The touch of lace on
sweet hidden delights.

Deep velvet music
soft , soulful and blue .
Cool beads of sweat
like mornings first dew.

Sleepy dreams fade
from a deep sated sleep .
As morning creeps in
through the window
like a thief.