This subconscious winter
afternoons of impeding gray
cold frail will impaled
stunting eyes and flurried vision.
Cathedrals chime the unnatural
here madness flowers in layers of suave
awareness sleeps on every pew
trust sold, will thrown in gratis.
In my misshapen whorl of reverie
this frozen mind guards ego and id
shuffling truth to the back of I
to half dream and half live self
behind the delusion of morality
secreting secrets from myself.
Cast all secret shames to hell
conceal only misery’s mere
remember hope, puddled now like blood
salvage the crimsoned boundaries.
Watch the child’s shadow now!
Dark, with wise all cloaked
Listen, the lie of home’s repast
where wrought iron tranquility gates
bring evening a piercing infinity
of shadowed time playing and replaying
my heart with troubled beat
echoing back unwanted years.
I bask in the empty ether
of time’s smarting muzzle
deep as loneliness is long
and orphaned tears drip.
For what… for whispery blood
no one to hear me anywhere.
the lateness of my enlightened night
a sad dream, a suffering that is not there.
Where has wonder gone, young and bold
under a backyard garden night
to gaze and dream as sleep grabs hold
and all the stars high alight.
MaxS 1995
