All Hallows' Eve,
Sinks in
With the whirling
Winds
That conjure
Lost spirits,
With Invisible
Forces,
MaGicAllY.
A lost voice
Howls
From inside
The unknown.
To capture
A taste
Of immortality.
But you still
Reside
On this side?
All this time,
You never left
My side.
Every year,
You return
To where
Souls dance
Entangled in
Browning leaves,
No one would
Ever believe me,
If I told them
I can feel you
Here,
As if you
Never left
This
Mortal life.

All that
Fills the air
Now,
Is a barely
Audible,
"Goodbye."

Where are you Devi ?

Up in the Kailasha
in the arms of Mahadeva
snowclad silent in meditation
while down below in their settlement
humans in the belief you've come down
adorn you with flowers with their hands
and with those same hands **** own blood
rob own kin debauch mothers and sisters
crowd your place of worship with no piety
but for selfies with your image on the background
for Devi unbeknownst to even you
you're no more the Shakti
the prowess against the Evil
but a commerce, a commodity
in the hands of men of 21st century
who know to worship only money.

She wakes me up deep in the night.

I understand you, she smiles
snuggling into me, her nose,
pressed cotton soft on my cheek

I have no strength, I cry
not one, for you

I love your weakness
love you for your weakness
her breath wafts into mine

and the boy stuck in his age
floats in the web
of the girl forever
forgiving.

It's raining,
Ambulance sirens drown the,
Silent slumber,
No one is on the road,
A mobile maddance,
Mad chanced,
Or mild happenstance,
No change,
But the toll keeper keeps,
Jingling coins,
What have you got to pay?
The windowless hospital waits,
With a unacknowledged anxiety,
No one is on the road,
Will this be the last time or,
Are you trying to make,
Every one stare longer,
The rain wont stop,
Shot, shot, shot,
Drip, drip, drip,
It'll be a few days,
Till the rain,
Decides to quit,
The toll keeper has better things to do.
And the ambulance rolls on.

gesundheit!

"reflexive longing" says Charles
looking at looking as an end
time's tailored rust overcoat

back in that day ghosts lived
high and low road spiriting
pinned chronicles of osseous tissue

this hunger, thirst and yearning
for aging interstitial cartography
points our happy compass arrow

remembered like a dear friend
or a stuffed bear or rabbit tale
where familiar comfort comes home

-cec