Leaves of rust dot an aggressive sky
The blacktop and yellow lines that divide us…are covered with dew
Such as a, cold sweat from a fever that will not break
Friends to the right teaching from a treacherous dream
Tired and worn neighbors to the left…correspond to the dead
Across the great dissect…acquaintances no longer fed
With watchful eye, I sit on a weathered deck pondering…’where has my neighborhood gone?’
A mortgaged life singing her swan song
Original sin and I…obeying the wrong
These times are lean
Not for only the queer and fine.
Not for only those of disabled mind.
For all human and…unkind.
Cannot help but feel a chill in the air.
Cannot help but wonder…
the depth of waters,
The river’s edge no longer inviting.
Vacant tables seem
Brighter times misguiding.
The size of things and secret matters left to a court jester and mad hatter.
To fend distant thought,
I watch in admiration,
as my dogs frolic.
Their antics blissfully unaware of the impending need to panic.
Ice caverns scrapping and scraping the back of my mind.
Respect a disillusion that I can no longer find.
How do I speak to trust…when whispers turn to face the screams.
Tell me, how is it the embedded with bedlam human claw marks…know where my faults have been?
I am just a faded albatross playing a clairvoyant…wrapped around a keeper’s neck.
Over and over. Under and under. Through and out. Nothing in doubt is what it seems.
Young, old, all spirits carry their own ashen crosses to the forehead of make believe.
Make believe in the air. Promises of graffitti etched in membranes of friends, long since gone.
Persons and their bundled parsonage chisel a tunnel from my ethical dreams.