it's a place i've only seen in pictures
a ruddy monument of sand and stone
with bold striations like ancient scriptures;
a history engraved upon a colossal throne.

summer ghosts roam the islands
floating through flesh and bone
winter ghosts haunt the highlands
where lonely travelers are never alone

spring ghosts dance in the midlands
leaping through hearts like flame
and autumn ghosts chant in the woodlands
where the song is never the same

her purse had a large gold clasp
sweaty knuckles, she gripped it so tight
keeping the key to her heart's hasp
in a blackened place, away from the light

self-defense was her way of life
that no one else could really know
for emotion is the invisible knife
that can cut with the simplest "Hello".

clicking tap shoe echoes
through a hall of mirrored stages
a million miles of sold out shows
fill his worn out pages

the book is near complete
the curtain is descending
his ears know no defeat
for the applause goes on, unending.

face ripples in watery reflection
straining to see the bottom
i crouch for further inspection
and vanish into the colors of autumn

baby owl faces.
next world of forgotten air.
timepiece creatures work.

gratitude montage
crisis jesters love to death
passage of legend