As I fell upstairs
last evening
I don't know
why, i couldn't
Stand up straight,
but I wasn't drunk

I was crashing around,
like the lost soul
That I seem to have become
A ghost who lives
in between this life
And an early grave
Full of sorrow
Full of pain

An absence of dust
in an un-aired room
a shade against
the lighted window
at evening

I only pay attention to
My dreams now
However mundane
Or strange they are
My life is too full of hurting
to contemplate much

What has become of me?
I cannot say for
I do not know
Only that I am
Bereft of hope
And there are things
worse than death

I see others' living
and despair
That I will ever know
such things
Again.

When we look out beyond stars
beyond city lights that interfere
we see vast expanses of black velvet
storing up gigawatts of static electrons
waiting to release a supernova
leaving us as hint of lilliputian ozone

-cec

A season
revisited his
distaste that
ponder welcomed
a shinning
new suit
then tell
silly monologues
that absorb
deeply in
his music
set what
then foretold
as better
spoken in
person with
Grand Marnier.

Galactic curls in spirals swirl, entwining twisted mystery,
where time unrolls in blackened holes, no longer bright and blistery,
but writ like runes on starry dunes enclosed in cosmic history

Galactic dust, from novas' gusts, congesting empty spaces
once fatefully flung beyond the tongue of burnt out astral traces,
may recompress and coalesce in distant times and places

Galactic dwarves, like ancient wharves with silent planets mooring  
yet still in spin though long done in, hide flares no longer soaring -
magnetic webs of eons ebb, in thermal fusion roaring

Galactic tides warp space divides, call forth sublime creation
while bending clocks in rippled shocks, unfolding time dilation
that seems to crown the flowing gown of pulsars' pulsed gyration

Galactic stew, a seething brew, midst background noise and chatter
like Chaos reigns, the sole remains of missing antimatter,
with just a trace to form a space-time, curved or somewhat flatter

Galactic glue holds something new: dark energy and matter
that interacts and counteracts the ancient Big Bang splatter:
a cosmic soup of strings and loops, a universal batter

Galactic life's replete and rife 'neath lactic milky wafer,
though solar gales leave unseen trails of cosmic rays, the strafer;
but nonetheless, one must confess, it seems there's nowhere safer

i.

the grass in the meadows
has grown high,
it melts like an emerald
sea under the sun.

ii.

summer stretches
robotic and angular
everything larger than life
sunshine and the childish rains
pouring stormy drops
on the window.

iii.

the sky is perfectly white
the cloud is an unbroken
line, no dots or dashs,
no hyphens or metaphors.

iv.

i dress in the morning and
undress at night let the
pools of the night tether me
to the sky.

sitting in the reflected sunshine
glass flowers breaks into a shattered prism
casting shards of color around the afternoon filled room
while motes of dust foreshadow
the yet distant snowfall falling silently
glass flowers, painted edges like razors
cutting sharp shadows on the tabletop
they interrupt the smooth page where my words have fallen
breaking them into nonsensical whimsy
casting them like a ship on the rocks
obscured to their meanings
shredded of their worth
glass flowers grow in my mind
clawing their way upward from the false soil
trying to find within themselves lifespark and breath
they took my words in hopes of
finding passion to inscribe on their hopes
passion is proof of life
passion is proof of a heart beating madly with desires
glass flowers silently seek life
to grow, live, breath
to be loved and to love
glass flowers sit silently in reflected sunlight
wishing for life beyond this quiet room

I heard a spool of yarn only yesterday yearn
whence from atop a hill subsistent with lore
her newspaper turned blogger here
why her demon cut loose
when she haled tomfoolery her ally cat
from outback went to purr upon her shoulder
as it ran; out from under her carpet that flesh
lingered trough the night but in her bed side table drew a pen
then paper from her shelf below
for we slept together with her stiletto yet lingerie forevermore.