lost sunday
i travelled light on cemetery rd.
flinching at every sound
of the whistling oaks
coming after me

i was sick but i didn't know
hushed by the fire
on the horizon
and the footsteps at my back
through crystal snow

believe me, i was sick
i was a drunken punk
in the soy fields
sleeping giant  
in a ring of salt

love games the icing
forlorness is not a sin
longing not the end

somewhere out along
the edge of sometime
before never

is that one you call
fall asleep to dreaming
of

that one light gleams
her eyes seek yours too
amidst the dark

the withering blues
the false facade of hopelessness
just raise your head

one day calm those needs
find her in the
clouds the breeze

she is there real
real as any dream
you seek

call to her
she is
listening

when her ocean sounds
rang the pallid chandelier
i felt my blood cook
and disappear
the pool-house hummed
in the veil of night

i wanted to speak with her
beneath a canopy of lights
i miss her bathroom floor
(the meadow of clothing)
buried like carthage salt
and the hymns she half-sings
into thin air

the sea was never so still
as the night i spilled my guts
in the sink from vanilla pills
and laughed at my immortality

when i scream underwater
the blue screams back to me
in my maraschino heart
i know one thing to be true:
that the cooing and the howling
will never leave the ocean floor
and fall upon the waiting ears
of those who i meant it for

i need you to keep me awake
until the palace band stops playing
and the trapped sand in my hands
turns into sea glass

i'm lit up but so easy to smother
by a wayward breath of wind
or the waxing moon's light temper
the errant smoke will twist forever

the sight of him broke my heart
alone and waiting by the old white fence
and his shadow shamed the midnight dark
that transformed and shifted in its dance
the ground on which they used to lie
shivering from the breath of winter air
starving and sullen, soon to die
blood and mud thickening their hair
in time we will both be scarcely breathing
all broken up and silent with ****** scars
with the light of the moon and stars all bleeding
their perfect designs upon the lonesome yard