My funeral guide,
Shadow partner,
Silent enchanter,
You take my hand,
Lead me down a moonlit street, I follow, not knowing why. Something clouds your eyes. Dark in ravished moonlight.
I study the lines on my face,
My dark nature,
Darker cohort,
This connection fraying,
This dim receiver,
I ask only for a ladder,
A place closer to the stars.
Dear Shadow Sam,
My Sweet Delia,
Shelter from the storm.
Some slivered dream,
But it gets under your skin,
A red tick burrows deeper.

Feel my hand in the dark
Sookie Sue?
Stroking the nape of your neck, my Sweet Nothing?
I see you hiking your dress
In the moonlight.
Surely in your mind
You paint it black.
Are you afraid It will take you where you cannot go?
Where beneath the light
A beetle eats a rotted root.
And blood shine black
In the moon. And I thought
You gave up swinging gondolas,
As I lurch in the rain.
Later, we shall forget this,
In a dream of 1965.
And the slanting sun will
Cloud the mind.
As my pen drips upon the page, Greasing the rails
For the elemental comedown,
See the cut upon the finger?
As your face blurs in the mirror,
A dream upon this pinprick
In a lost adobe afternoon.
I'll not extend this invitation
Twice.
Are you with me.

Man, you've got to take a step back. I mean you come on a
Little heavy.
I know you've got to write,
But it can be a little intense
And creepy.
I know you'll vdraw me an
Expose on Ecclesiastes,
But I'll show you about baiting hooks in the wind
And learning to let go.
There's something more..
Some larger connection
To the moments we live
For more than ourselves.
The missing part we call
God.
That silent stirring,
A rush of wind, A whisper
At the edge of waking.
A brush, a feather,
Someone calling our name,
But we know not where.
In a moment's clarity,
Seeing ourselves for who
We really are.
A dry time turned oasis.
The healing heart rises
With the Spirit,
Both infused with God
And separate in Father
And Son. Sometimes my
Catholic heart bleeds through my tee shirt.
And I always end up where I
Should be. To the edge of the page and over.

Soon it fades,
A breath falling away,
Something you always lose,
A dream,
Now but a vapor,
Somehow a window
And a field of flowers
At the edge of waking.
And the sunlight rubs away
The last of the dream
In the call of voices
Below the tenement
Reminding of drudgery.
And you don't blink back
At the dullness descending
For another day
As you fathom
Your loss
In the last of the wake.

My hidden muse,
My sodden sun,
Friend to outcasts,
Tripped of lounge music,
Shadowed and awakened
Reciever,
That space of twilight,
That hour between.
Turning in blue rails
We never see,
Peach and palmetto
Lisping in the sun.

My, this blue chip of loss,
Such passionate warfare,
I pale next to it's preponderance,
Of light years lying low
In the lowlands,
A flit of light upon the screen,
The first firefly this hot
And lonely season,
Self imposed by the Constable
Of Sonnets,
A priest of Psalms
For your rainy day.
I'll walk barefoot to the swings, Drink beneath the tree in the cool, wet grass
As the moon rises, slicing
The clouds in the last
Pink Vista of the sun,
While sonic booms and
Pennywhistles aft in the
Forefront of this visceral
Institutions along Route 41
Looking for the burned edges
Of Americana dying
In the grass.
We'll sojourn along the breaks and Alps,
Waiting on the ghost train
Vibrating up the rails
As we speak, Before it's whistle falls away to the place never seen behind the sun.

You don't ponder the dark division,
You reign in the lines,
The white and dark
Print of the land,
Kicking up dark dreams
Like dust mites in corners,
Before you wake to the
Blueberry alarm clock
Shrilling the hour like
A blazing *****.
And I open a wounded
Outpouring of blood and moons, Burning deeper
Then you thought they could.
And you study maps of
Old universities,
Bowels of Old buildings,
Cluttered with useless relics,
Old swage presses running
On hydraulics,
Old steam compressors,
And you still look to the sky,
With swing sets rising/
                              Falling,

Lifting it's motion to the sky,
Exacting your imagination
To the dark line
Falling away from the center.

Watch the dagger
Coming in your dreams.
You watch it like a swan
Shining silver

It melts into everything.
You become the night.

You reach up,
Swatting it
Like a fly.
Your eyes move rapidly
With the scenary.