dreamed of devastation,           flew miles        low

over concrete .   skeletons,      bones of the thing.



all is dust, as dust we have become.                 slow.



grey.    nothing moves here no more.          no sighs.



they have forgotten us.        we have forgotten them.



are we  now the bones of what we were?



bad night dreaming.



sbm.

Entwined, despair and hope
As two strands of the one rope...

They want us marching to the sound of fear,
Footsteps dull, thudding in-time with one another,
Eyes always fixed on the horizon,
Searching for a sun that always lies just too below to see.
We cannot go back;
Nighttime has already fallen
And we march ever forward, chasing sunlight or outrunning darkness.
We are never sure which.
The stars are no longer the pinpricks that show us a glimpse of Heaven
Poking through the blanket of vast, lonely nothingness.
They have mutated into the eyes of our enemies,
And they surround us and outnumber us a million to one.
They want us to move forward, but no matter how far we march,
We are followed by more and more eyes, twinkling and menacing.
Black silhouettes of trees stand against indigo skies,
Swaying so erratically in the wind that we swear they're chasing us.
March faster than the trees, faster than the stars' light can travel.
March faster than the sound of the war drums can reach our panicking ears.
They are here. I can hear the drums.
Can you hear the sound of drums?

. some hedges are higher than others.               i wrote . a thing so private, so intense .



. simple , complex. no one will see it .                           note your achievements to date.



.hell no.                                                         i cannot think of it every day, nor have regrets.



.his life is different to yours.        i have discussed it fully, yet it will remain confidential.

. he is still alseep                                                                              and will remain so a while.





hers is the portrait, a girl. cracked window looks at clouds,                       the mountain.

ledge, dead moths stretched out in all their softness,                            stunned by light.



torn          curtains stir memories, indicate a private place to weave and mend a dream.



some hedges are higher.

sbm.

Here I am

by the sea

Shanghaied

from the mountains

a long ways

from loving

let the record read

I'm ****** if I don't

and ****** if I do

and let the moon

hide in my boot.

Every breath that expires from our being,
kisses the checks of our loved ones forever.

Though we are just a finite moment it is one
that lasts longer on then any of use think.

Do not fear my fading for I'm part of you as
you are me. Even though you do not hear my
voice yours is always with me.

If you miss me, if you feel a yearning for my
touch, walk outside and feel the flurry of the wind.
This is me still with you, my breath on the breeze.

"Mourning me even though I live in you,
                               *"I will never fade even though gone,