We were laying in bed and I was drowning in your gaze. You wrapped your arms around me and slowly whispered in my ear that I was a national treasure to you. You told me my essence, my power, and my presence overwhelmed you and that I was your Niagara Falls.
Day debt night wept sleep crept Attachment. Where is my attachment? evening out of balance The line of my life has broken off into separate identities Flower feather Hollow weather Moonlight Canyon Skylight childhood nostalgia Stolen star Battered cheekbones Of weary workers keeping to The hornet's nest Reality a constant terror Of city structures swallowing them whole. Blackbird rests on an Autumn branch of hidden meadow checking its wristwatch obsessively for the Hydrogen Volcano INEVITABLE. Termite Corporations Cavernous Hilltops All that green is gold (A straw man in Byzantine robes approaches the frosty Manhattan to become a relic in it's Libraries) People fall in Love with coincidence, (The illusion of order beyond our field or reach) All that love is kept in a Conservatory somewhere... Glossy stems connected to palpitating blossoms.
Our tired eyes are focused to the asphalt confluence whether fever or handhold.
Hymns ring throughout the forests of Vancouver Island Dreamers hang from the Niagara Trestle caught in overwhelming sunlight Doused in spirit.
Holy Melancholic September Sweeps away the dusty Summer, everything seems renewed In the rain..