Needle in the hay stack
The spin of the weather vane
I took a drink of you
And felt heavy to the touch
I lay back on my bed and opened up the dark
I woke up dead
Or maybe half alive
I miss the words
That came from your lips
Poems as mystical as a cloud of smoke
I allowed to twist around my fingers
Maybe I thought of them
Maybe not
Words like forests as deep and as dark
You skip from pool to pool of silver moonlight
Beaming through the trees
Singing a song I once heard in a dream
A bird
A whistle
As you snap your fingers
As you tap your foot
You never trip on
The terrible black roots
That reach up like fingers.
Somewhere far away or very near
You picked a flower
And placed it behind your ear
You sit cross legged a minute
As you drink your can of beer on the porch
You say you feel important and high up
Like angels found you and brought you back
To me
How I see the porch light
Reflecting your hair
As you twirled a lock and whispered
Mars is visible tonight
Red and bright
A shooting star
And you wish

On time with the cosmic dance of fire and color and rain
Earthquake Heartache Lust and Pitty
Your eyes glow in every dark alley
Of this sad quiet city