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Channel South.
The Mississippi fold
Whipped midnight dust
From the quiet cages
Of homeless graves.

The dead awake
To low night music
As yellow electric light
Mirrors the slow flow
Of gorgeous life
That loves to shine.

So speak to the fine eyes
As if you found them
In a great Khan’s garden,
Elegant and wild
This garden, grown wild
    serves our purpose best
Where our desires might recline
    side by side and feline like
In quiet untamed shades
        
The symmetry of perfection
    tipped the scale
With the tinge of boredom
    leading bare steps
Towards a delicate line

Crossed with whispered
    thoughts of wants

So flaws bore fruit
    and the wild thrived  
And the temptation of two bites
    caught fire in our teeth

Two hearts burning bright
Wild lives grow
     like vines
With secret beasts
     in roaring leaves
Seeking to dream blues
     north

Hags burn
     sinister herbs
From the foliage
     but smoke blows
south

Heavy breaths
     gasp clean air
Growing bored
     to choke
We only howl when the sun rises
Cause nights are for softer sounds
And softer hearts than
The faces made for the
Days that make fists

Paler light unclenches them.
We blend into a scape
Without fading, a starry
Dusk overwhelming

Our cries will cease
And we will hum and burn
In our fall.  The trip to
Earth is fun and seems
To smile back
The land glowing closer
A glow in the night
Through thick glass
Accompanies the silence
Of a city seeming
Muted

Where is this button
That shuts its voices down?

Missed whispers in unfiltered night air

May I dream them
If I sleep?
If the humming walls
Will ever cease
Boundaries broke
    the storm
        before it rose
So the glow
    settled
The beautiful put to bed
    And wonder died
        while it slept
A kiss too late that left my lips
And passed to you with a gentle press
As you glided by.

You barely seemed to see my eyes
In wanting need of some return
And glanced your sadness on to me
That now was not the time.
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