Webs are spun
between the rising
and
the setting sun.

Caught and trapped in the sticky strands of a day
I wait and
waste
away.

What can I say?
I woke up,
it was Saturday,
seems the weekend's underway
and I am under steam.

I'm shipping out on the noon tide
across the ocean
deep and wide,
dreaming of a sunlit bay,
what can I say?
I woke up,
it was Saturday

A still night and
still night
under the glow of a gas light
a man might catch his
shadows
cast.
The last of them skittering down
the long road where more shadows unload
their darkness.

He,
moves.
slowly, dragging his long legs,
legs which once plucked air and ******
miles under his feet,
to the door,
unlocking the seashore
he
bathes in the sight of the moon and
soon,
breaks out of his old skin
wades in and
begins to
swim.

'Into the darkness, out of the light'
into the weird of the wonderful night.
Set free,
you and me,
off we skip happily,
for we
are the clusters,
the dusting of stars on
the evening and
Mars
won't go to war because
of that.

There is a sweetness to it all,
the rise and,
kiss me
before I fall
again
before
I feel the pain
of
emptiness

Some come out as moths and burn up in the flame
some come out as butterflies,reach the sun,
they burn just the same.
I came out,a six foot sloth,not
a butterfly or moth and
I remain, never reached the sun or
burnt up in the flame,
my life is quite pedestrian.

If I close one eye does it mean half of the sky disappears
will I only shed half of the tears that I cry
if I close one eye?

The inner child dies and
we look on this life
with jaundiced eyes.
The yellowing page of old age,
where the monsters
that hide on the underside of your bed
have the same look as you,
the look of the dead.

I heard their
Hearts breaking
Like fine China
On hardwood floor
These hearts are too pure
To be in left in pieces