it's a short  dance
between the night and, say  
the morning
dreamy hope  
moon trance  
missing heartbeats
scary haunting prowls
distant shards of darkness
and a soft release
with a hint of silence.

My drugged fantasy
follows the rhyme masters:  
trans-Atlantic dwellers  
icy treasure keepers
sights of sacred mountains    
and powerful embracing
(never self-effacing)
of half-life, half-death.

My pen poised and struggles:  
such a crazy evening  
such seductive welcome  
sights perfectly imagined  
and accomplished howls  
of the gospel sayings.  

I'm a northern demon
painting ashen skies
as I watch vampires of dark past returning.
  
Such a hard unlearning:
memories
are future souls burning
that whisper to us  
through the ancient dust
of painless forgetting
freedom fragments chasing  
precious bonds of wisdom,
perfect dreamy angels.