There were banners made
And every one
Was streaming shades
Of morning sun

From parapets of my imagination
Like the bare regrets of dimming fascination

There were clouds of white
And each the same
Was filled with light
Til each became

A window that was opening to greet you
A crescendo with no confidence to meet you

There were images
Of closing eyes
Where limits live
Composing lies

A quill I took from you in admiration
With a willing look of somber supplication

There were written vows
And every one
Is silent now
And sealed from sun

Just sentences that fade like an ellipsis
That were sent away like days with long eclipses



Dead and cold
Is leaden, old,
In dread, I’m told
I’m led and sold
By this
Regret I hold

I persist…
A lifeless tryst
To end
Goodbye, Mistress
Should I insist
Of you
A final kiss
And if so…

Life is still,
Strife and ills:
Knife and pills…
Might just kill
The light I feel
Strike or heal
My heart
Just like you do


Light was dancing with you
As a flower in a forest safe from time
Holos and reflections of the dream I still pursue
Forever deaf to the objections
That I seek an end that never would be mine

Shadows seem to tell me –
As they coalesce and gather to reveal
The tilted recollections of the world I wish to see –
That I invented new connections
Out of fantasies that never would be real

I was walking by you
Like a river in a desert running dry
Dunes of dead affection met the death of morning dew
Leaving maps of old directions
To a citadel of never in the sky

Light was there and growing
Like a blossom that tomorrow had in store
Bound for resurrection without any way of knowing
It was your impure perfection
That had led me where I’d never been before


Circle back to heaven on your wings of air and soar
To places I recall, for you and I were there before
Resting like a eulogy of hope that dared adore
As if an intersection where the sea and sun could share the shore

Drift into the wind as if a feather meant to fly
To consolations crafted like a letter sent reply
Held forever hovering as “whether” went to “why”
As exclamations made of you then punctuated the intent of I

Fall beyond the precipice that held your view to here
To places that are beautiful and skies are blue and clear
Made into the symphony I heard in lieu of fear
As if your words were an Elysium you granted me when you were near

Pull me through the shadows and the absent barren view
To valleys and to vistas long ago, for there we knew
The sky was never large enough to keep you where you flew
And all the same, I didn’t care as long as when you landed I was there with you


When I look your way, you seem to disappear
Smoke behind a looking glass
And though I feel, with certainty, I’m capable of looking past
The little flecks of dreams denied
Behind the you I deemed implied
The vision that I see is never truly crystal clear

When I see your face, it’s not the one I knew
Lips a very different shade
A smile of decisions and of choices that you swiftly made
A secret that you kept inside
And made of tears you never cried
I seem to only ever truly see the sun in you

When I try to hear your voice, it seems to fade
Tone and timbre twisted out
And heard as if a sermon offered sweetly from your lips devout
As if a leading hand, or guide
For you, the moon, and I the tide
An ocean made of us that we could never dream to wade

When I say your name, it’s with a jilted sigh
Broken into small degrees
And nothing like the words that, once upon a time, I called with ease
A signature of “Well, I tried…”
But ink within the well has dried
And faded are the letters kept,
And all of them are missing your reply


Ever more what none had been
More so than any other
Crucifix against the sin
As if some holy mother

With a mark upon my cheek
That wears your somber color
Lips, though parted, never speak
We, now, to one another

Even still, what couldn’t be
Like snow adrift in summer
With a glow I crave to see
In eyes that now you cover

Half an inch above the ground
Your aura seems to hover
All the same, my heart is bound
To you, my silent lover


Tell me, should we fly
To where the days
So very gray can lie
Their head upon the rays
Of errant sighs
Where you and I convey
By empathy or enmity
The epithets of ways to vie

Something made of us
Or maybe them
Securing when to must
As spring on autumn’s hem
As we adjust
And so entrust the end
Of empty needs and vanity
To words of friends, if only just

Tell me, should we be
What then became
The very same as we
Would surely call profane
An errant sea
Adrift in wreaths of shame
Where apathy and lenity
Are efforts left in strained decree

From these ragged wounds
And leaning souls
Where now the cold consumes
And riddled them with holes
As we assumed
We could resume the hold
Of blessed, free amenity
If only one of us had told the truth