delphinium migrant blue,
and into night
we follow,
toward the residue
of morning,
where there's no time
limit to grief.

you wake with
electric intervals,
something's wrong
with yesterday,
in your head are
galaxies like grains of salt,
and they fill up the sky.

these red metallic balloons,
that come to you
when you are ripped open,
whether it’s by pain
and heartache
or you’re falling in love,
these you can’t close
yourself off to.

but what you actually want
is to bypass them,
and try to reach that
dawn serenade,
which is floating
above them,
as if golden electric ribbons
which don’t
demand repayment.

That girl sitting there
is a beautiful tragedy
her mind is an aghast
her body
is her grave
her bones
ache
while her throat is being strangled
whats wrong with her mind
cant ever be untangled.
she,
is a beautiful tragedy

the ocean dreams...
colours like burnt kisses,
the blue mist tangles the air.
the shore shook out its creases
like old linen, fell under
the tumbling wave.
i drank the silence,
walking where the moon,
carried along by the song
of a ripple, dipped
her feet in the foam,
dancing, dancing...
beneath her ivory tongue,
a glistening jewel,
her alabaster skin
night's whitest rose,
and where the stars
wrapped december in
ghosts and the
gleaming water was the
quietest echo of love,
i could no longer bear
to be alone, and my tears
were the wilderness
and how it grew inside me,
and everything i loved was there
the wave carrying the wind
and i felt alive, as joyful
as the silver shore, a dark-pooled
painting of you, a river-eyed song.

(a poem in Senryus)

Let’s rerun the play,
take up strings, so the puppets
can start fresh their dance.

Summon the old ghosts—
Shakespeare’s doomed heroes
—pronounce them reborn.

Recall the actors,
lead horses from their pastures,
raise the curtains.

Pay Shylock his pound
of flesh, give Richard his horse,
let Viola love anew.

Old, ever-hallowed
villainy, once banished,
has taken new stage.

Human suffering,
live—don’t fret, you won’t miss it
—it’ll come to you.
.
.
Songs for this:
Kool Thing by Sonic Youth
End of the innocence by Don Henley
The Perfect Idiot by Fievel Is Glauque

Golden threads tie us together
No matter what the distance
No matter the amount of time
They bind us as one

Golden threads tie us together
No matter the language
No matter the culture
No matter the place
They bind us as one

Golden threads tie us together
They reach across the universe
Never ending
They last forever
Never breaking
They bind us as one
Always

it was much
heavier than I expected.
that cherry-wood box,
all that's left of you.
it was heavier than the news of your death,
but not nearly as heavy as the loss of you
every moment you weren't there when I was a child.
you taught me a lot,
not directly,
but your absence taught me everything
about loneliness
about pretending to be strong
during my weakest times
it taught me how to do time
without expecting anyone to be there
and no one ever was.
but you're finally with me,
now that you're gone.
the news of losin' you wasn't
what I expected it to be
that cherry-wood box was a lot
heavier than I thought it'd be
I miss you like I always have,
it's just different now.

Let there be darkness
helping us all to see

The light in the night
and the darkness in the day
not just one shade of Grey


There could be a call
that wakes us from our sleep
helping us all to see

The light in the night
and the darkness in the day
not just one shade of Grey

Everyday I put a moment away
believing this to be true
and as I try to think
through the swirling of the ink
something's surrounding me

The light in the night
and the darkness in the day
not just one shade of Grey

There could be a thought
that could change everything
gaining us
strength to see

The light in the night
and the darkness in the day
not just one shade of Grey

If I loose my way
through twisting of the day
colours fading away
I know all's not lost
as I start to see

The light in the night
and the darkness in the day
not just one shade of grey
not just one shade of grey