By the ancient bones of some antlered creature, singing out in ivory tones
A reckless murmur in the dark –against the tinder, a silvery flicker, a lonesome spark
Through blessed decay, youth blooms against the lifeless shivers of these old bones
Children dancing in amber cinders, hear the crows & ravens bicker, the golden peal of the lark

A reckless murmur in the dark –against the tinder, a silvery flicker, a lonesome spark
Pine of black, withheld by pillars of marble –built to last
Children dancing in the amber cinders, hear the crows & ravens bicker, the golden peal of the lark.
What a thing, the pallid palace outlived by the ochre grass

Pine of black, withheld by pillars of marble –built to last
There we caught it between our ribs, it set us loose –a clever thing, brought up to string its own noose.
What a thing, the pallid palace outlived by the ochre grass
I’ll never forget or forsake you love, always remember you in our youth

There we caught it between our ribs, it set us loose –a clever thing, brought up to string its own noose
Through blessed decay, youth blooms against the lifeless shivers of these old bones
I’ll never forget or forsake you love, always remember you in our youth
By the ancient bones of some antlered creature, singing out in ivory tones

Life, budding from the stoic ground, or so it would seem.
But beneath her surface, goodness, virtue, and sustenance teem.
****** soil, mother of all things.
Come to be stained with blood and ambiguity.
Will we last the day?
What would you have left to say?
What will you do with your numbered days, your breaths, your words
Before you go to feed the worms?

You and I
A song that started clumsily, mid-stumble, then fell into a beautiful flurry of violins playing lithe.
It’s a Shakespearean epic draped in a cheap suit of modern conjectures that caught my eye.
You and I
It’s climbing up a mountain-side, daring & tempestuous -cherishing every moment, not just the peak, but the hike.
Even as you’re pushing so hard its hurts to breathe, the air so thin your gasps are overlapping fighting for air– you’ll die if you quit, having the time of your life.
You and I
Seeing sheet-music for your favorite tune, as an illiterate fool, but somehow feeling the rhythm and time.
It’s enticing & startling, it’s the smell of privet-hedge and pine –familiar, refreshing, & divine.
It’s you and I.

Tumbling,
Tossing,
Dawn, midnight-midmorning’s crossing.
Comatose in an arcane ether-realm, I’m watching.
Through the pastel, piercing mountains –rifting, I lay drifting.
The curtains parting, releasing two daylight captives, falling.
Tumbling,
Tossing,
Unfinished dolls of porcelain, tangled mess of hair -streaming
A girl, brunette, no eyes, no lips –smiling or screaming.
She wears dress in tones of pallid, matching his wee bow-tie -stark against jacket wafting.
Their skin, fire-cast, spare of flush, their jointed arms –like birds, flapping.
Tumbling,
Tossing,
The boy finds rest in clouds where birds lay nesting and mists –gently cresting.
He’s posed, his hand exposed, for her hand, inanimate, he’s reaching.
She’s losing ground rapidly, with but mock sense of gravity, while in clouds peaks are breeching.
Chest shattering, glass chattering,
Tumbling,
Tossing.
Skewered bodice, broken bits of her calling, giving rise to the blind though she’s not yet done falling.
All at once, his cries come with his fresh face & his babbles, nearly maddening.
Struck with the frozen bite, eyes & lips bursting –painted from her plasticine features -her tears biting and cries raging!
From her inky tears is drawn a river, running, gently cradling before suddenly she’s drowning!
Tumbling!
Tossing!
Through the waves, her ceramics washed to skin- her hollow, broken chest now heart beating & lungs pleading!
She takes her breath from the dark waters of her rift, living tattoos on her skin now flourishing, blossoming!
Her soul, wide-awake, taking root in her skin; finding wading too shallow, she seeks higher things of depth & so flies with a lofty dive into the heavenly expanse of underwater, pitching stars for her catching.
Paying one last glance at her lost mate, cowering, she leaves him sobbing after her on a path he won’t be following.
Tumbling,
Tossing,
Surviving,
to Surpassing
...
She is Rising