optical sky
blue is an illusion
grey an effect

spun again
why the grey veil
carousel

while mourning.
gently the throb
of visceral flow
is reminder of
clocks.

pulse counts the
beats until
the bell is rung
calling the spirit
from it's case.

movement stops.
hands point two
and eleven.
dial painted.

one last turn of key .
in hope.
then questioning
if it really was
his time.

striking out to walk at night.
noise to move out the shadows.
my place to lurk

the wrapping of dark treacle's
out of me brings cold to
trap the meek.

not brightness blinding but
insidiously denying essence.
abusing the numb.

later in reflection holding
husks . the shadows creep
into me as remorse.

when did you last
in gentle obsession
cast your mind
so the wind spoke.

it passes. miss it's
touch and a whole
world being shunned.
are you such a force.

self-important that whispers
in trees, whistles of alleys
to hollow to drown
the media holler.

same current though howls
could rip through a town
bring your world tumbling
down.

hark then or would you decry
the cruelty and misfortune
and wail curses at wind .
be quiet .

listen to the situations
it brings.

do not chase me with garland
of apologies strung from sheds
of regret.

i love flowers.
in fields
and their dotes
ink linked so
they exist forever.

such passing events worthy
pursuit set me abundant
in decorant

dancing feet of
a tiger
tapped explanation
to fretful sort.

that joy cannot be
bound, owned or
traded for misery.

it waved a faintly
striped tail
and stepped out
on someone else's
tune.

Grrrrrr