The fair light peaks at dawn
this heart flattered by the rush
another perilous tick tock
another band of blue
in a seemingly endless veil of gray
say something for once
say something that is real
There’s a motion in the air tonight
as souls weave and collapse
through American freedom Tees
the land of liberty
stitched up tight
with fence posts and signs
restricting passage
I am Tulia
I am Cortez
I encompass every soul
and every broken bone
I’ve penned every sad song
with a pair of scissors
and a blow torch
cutting, yet mending
every carnival light
reflected in her eye
the sound falters
from a laugh, to a whisper
to an eternal sigh
Gasping breath in some lonely dream
until I land alive beside her
when the fair light peaks at dawn
and with it
a brand new day
making her more beautiful
than the one before
but not me anymore
So back down in the shadows of the Pines I troll
the bleeder bell tolls
I am running over the land
as cold mysteries of life
lunge ever closer with outstretched claws
and where would I be
if I did fall off that mountain?
Not here, not anywhere
hiding my fear in a bell jar
pasting it shut with horefrost
a crystal icing so cold and clean
a white glaze with her imprint
frozen, forever
The complicated clock
ticks recklessly
tossing time into a volcano
feeding Buddha bedtime snacks
cold strawberry cobbler
mad, hot liquid drinks
Have I done anything remotely close
to what the Red Soldier has done?
I think
smoking cigars at a toy train station
bring me my luggage
I am going home with her
We smoked our last cigarette
on the train ride to New York
it was 3:35
and the sky was losing its shape
and I was losing mine
returning to the womb now
to feed on mother’s blood
I’ll come back out
and start all over again
Tropic of Tomorrow 