(woundspur)

morning birthed of inexorable dawn
eyes sliding open like sad ships on rocks
nervous disciples my hands, a mind struck like steel
submergent thoughts in swallowing light
bitter chipped china and bitter black brew
perched in blue fingers on hands growing old
edges whitened around the thin cup;
door falling open, the world falling in
exuberant leaves swirl around me again
choose the oblivious, take no more mind
marching like mudslides my feet take the road
wherever i wander, my mind will arrive,
spending some hours on what there is gold
then back to ponder, bent like a dead man
then back to wander, get lost in the cold.
midnight coffin
reluctant touch
reflection on the armored chest
voice miasmas lost in sobs
restrained like a dying beast
chanting voice, electric dead
metal femur slams into its joint
lid collapsing, as
i fall redundant.

		wound described
		curving sky morning
		before, recollections
		of redemption
		denied in a shower
		of silvery coins

					your wound detailed
					before the morning
					barely there, recollections
					of violence
					denying futures in a shower
					of spittle from words.
			bitter fingers clenched
			days undone
			bereft, they left--
		paper shrouds for ten small servants
			crumpled,
		cigarette scar epitaph.

our lovely hours lost in the sun
maybe seconds in autumn
maybe days, our years tearing
so much like
birth; except
the birth of
silence, and
the wetness of soft hands
in the chill of the early morning.
			       s.r.p.
[-=-=-]