The harpie crows
As I settle my toes
'Neath the bleeding suicide tree

I look left and right
As packs of dogs race by
The harpie begins tearing leaves

I wait for the tears to stop
I wait for the blood to clot
All this coming from the suicide tree

Loneliness and fear
This is what brought me here
Slumped beneath the suicide tree

Again I search
For the sign of a first
Light, here in this life's debris

Blinded like I,
A man puts his hand in mine
And leads me away from the suicide tree

Unexpected as ever
I'm light as a feather
As he leads me away from the loss of me

Still I can't help but guess
That this isn't the best
And on weeps the suicide tree

Static whimpered then, now
was a moment, is and will be.

But in my deeper blue, waits a
Sapphire cesspool; waste and ivory
the Isle of Man, wades and drowns
silk swollen in the silence of still water,
through Hesperian greed and the tide
of golden apples.

In wandering, the cicada and cypress
grew in a moment's swan song,
Paradise was a pyre, and it was Winter
and the modern world.

And in what days of one day
would the enchantment bring-- of
the red faces and quivering tongues?

And what would the harpie bring--
icy tendrils of Spring to cool the flame?  
A wretched smile, of the witness
blackened, knelt cradling his
head in his hands.

and in that moment, I was a lost man,
a lost man,
And then the happiest on the face of the Earth:


Now, the night is shallow.
****** is a breath, Eros is breathing, I am still.

Still

caught in the net of waking dreams,
when a binary sunset births the piercing tone,
of frequency high and ears hollow:
I was on my back, floating
and Death stood waiting
at the end.

Chariot yoked, pinion on pinion,
I gritted my teeth, unfurled my wings
and wept-- the mind is vengeance
As cruelty is the Mother of love.

and Now
stands waiting,
in the memory of himself.
A war is waged each moment,
with the echo of forever:

soul for soul,
talon for talon.