pin-cushioned tears
gouge
corkboarded smiles
cloaking
gorgeous gold-leafed
harmonies
with transparent
songs
lovingly sung
in Galaxy tones
uniting souls
from the nothingness
harvested
on voluptuous horizons
hazy with the visions
of the receding distances
and filled with the fluster
of fruit falling in summer
a burnished gold tint
on the fluvial ripples
and the mice frolic cheerful
unaware of the sweetest song
that the universe makes
seemingly all in vain
frowns plastered over
with silk
textured neon stars
blanketing
bland walls of perception
blinking
drywall laughs echoing
within
craters of thoughts trapped
behind
beams of angels stares
lighting
stairs unwalked by those
not blind
the seraphims gaze
alights upon the perfection
of a soul not ours
entwining our desire
with humanity, losing divinity
breathless and shaking
with turgid animosity
staring at reflections
of strangers with ugly faces
twinkling eyes glaring
like lone stars
on pitch dark blackdrops
dripping from corners
of closed eyes
trapping silence with an
invisible net
outlined like a constellation
dwindling out
of sight
of mind
becoming a myth
told to generations of
stem celled
clones circled around
chalkfires
humming iceflaked hymns
from bloodflecked mouths
desperately clawing away
to bring back the past
that has been so easily forgotten
like refuse down storm drains
sunshine plays lazily
on a bored face that is
covered in the black lace
of funeral erotica
pushing the boundaries
for pleasures sake
when theres nothing more to life
than a dime and a dirge
to pay the ferryman awaiting
to take us to the
other side of the skies ocean
on this brisk
mourning during low tide
washing specks
ashore this love pebbled beach
hailing cotton
harvested for wings that have
yet to be handed
out and sewn on by angelic
seamstresses
rocking back and forth with
the windsong
those sorrowful notes
scythe through the solace
as the cascading rivulets
become a hailstorm
from better beginnings
leading to bitter conclusions
and tired men leaping from rooftops
to see if god would catch them
and a child laughs for the first time
with his mothers finger
gripped tightly in his wrinkled hand

reborn in the red rain

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