Station

I couldn’t stretch it
it began furtively
the weasel of a creature
stitching disaster with a golden flare
dancing brushstrokes in the air
stepping lightly
flooding slow
a prick to welcome
boring deep within
each layer, each flaking level
it could be cruel
but I’m sure this isn’t new
I know the tracks
and paint the country with pleasure
still be the train, upon them all
useless and crumbling
but ever so mighty
bending light with each day
crowding this heaven-sent boundary
to a cradle beneath
somehow immersed in everything
so carbon me
make me realistic
drawn and painted and sung
compose me your morals
stand with posture perfect
gripping ledges
haphazard leaping
and suddenly —
you see it too

so change it all, and harbour no chain
abandon weight, for I can help you fly

   

      

Finished: 8:28 a.m., Wednesday, December 5th, 2007.

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Moon Dog Numb

I took solace in the tears the moon gave me
pretending they were for you
it was full tonight and I passed the site
the cruel arena
I couldn’t find a plan so I kept going
and wouldn’t you know? I slept
while my tears dried on my cheeks
while I stood there staring at the moon
yes, I slept,
everything reduced to numbness
all the passion and anger
slept tonight in my pain
reciting my own words and those of ____
just so I can swallow some air
I’ve been breathing dirt for days now
I can’t feel anymore but that’s okay
it’s better than feeling awake
would you settle near me and watch me
so when I choke there’s a reason
since the scene never plays itself out
if it makes any sense at all

may I be removed? I thought I saw a star
I’m sure I did in my eyes
and the long clouds dripping dip through the moon
I watch behind the dead tree
magnificent as the Seven’s and just as achingly cursed

spelling my letters as I read them
I couldn’t find the keys in the scramble
the door was wide open and I walked into it
beginning with my mind
and ending with my feet

I can’t cry for you
I used to be much better
can’t slow my eyes getting wetter
so let me cry for the moon

Finished: 6:20 a.m., Sunday, November 25th, 2007.
Copyright L.M. 2007.

Serious Reflection

back on the isles
a confusing white mess
a figurehead files
off her silvery tress
standing up straight
never meant taking aim
in sinking her plait
you avoid taking blame
she walks along, slow
with a bird on each hand
her tumultuous glow
mirrors water on sand
and this do you cross
with your opening light
upon the wave’s toss
in the soft silken sight
your pining betrays you
as you spy from afar
your pining betrays you
as you gaze at her star
your pining betrays you
too distracted to note
your pining betrays you:
her locks are afloat

   

   

Copyright L.M. 2007.

Maple

on the underside of a leaf
it was written like a picture
slow, delicate, strokes
finding a lost path along each vein
and I read it aloud
listening to each line
tracing it in my mind
letting the song begin

and did I save you? I’m sorry
if the life crossed over
shining within you so bright
with the scent of new rain
it’s almost too much to feel
you let me breathe tonight

    

      

Copyright L.M. 2007.