Life is a dream,
just let it go by...

Three *** dreams in a row,
and I wake up lonely and
alone.
I don't need a ***** that
just wants to ****.
I want more, a woman to
love, that loves me.
And that love
cradles us, like
the wind, and rocks us into
a dreamless sleep beneath
an ebony sky.

I remember her
in old
photographs

she'd been
daydreaming
all her life
in her under-age
world

spinning
like a top
eternity
in her head
but recklessness
on her tongue

crusading for
******* summers
in Europe
and all that comes
splendidly hither

when laid down
by the embers
in the groves
close to
the congenial sea

I rightly recall
before the page
turning

electric particles
shooting off
as fireworks
in each of her
copper eyes

and how destiny's
curtain fell
with such
suddenness
that morning of
the thin blue line

known from history to history
and named in every age
the muse our of imagination
circles above the darkened stage

firmly held by winter's grasp
but heralding the birth of spring
starlit hope shines from afar
breathing life into eternal dreams

~
This level crossing--

stick,
sand,
and broken glass,

from naming to numbering,
names tend to define,
numbers are neutral,

they count the roads, follow their failings--

flow,
force,
and absorb,

dictated by a headlight,
I feel nearer to the surface of us,

motion made of visible memories, arrested in space,

mere unorganized explosions of random energy,
and therefore meaningless--

to fall in love with our progress,
and yet be outgrown by it.
~