Saturday, September 13, 2008

Crescent Suns

On late at last on summer nights when
the dry voices taunt the grass to breeze
with the singing voices of the childs mothers
I grasp from the branches of uprooted trees

oil soaked feathers and tangled nets
forest fires I only set to leave
I've never witnessed never noticed
the burnt earth beneath the stormy weather
I've too many terms ive yet to set
too many words I'll never be

a thousand paragraphs I have never scribed
I've seen this through but never seen it free
I'll scrawl twelve drafts upon the window sill
a dozen revisions of my epitaph
I've got days on end and years to kill
in this moment I've the right to be and
know in my own right place I'll take the stand
take the floor build a nest have a seat
never conscious of the waning past
the candle flickers in the curving hallways
dims against my bending knees

sometimes under the curvature of crescent suns
there is just too much smoke and speed to see
sometimes over the half way moons
there's too much fucking smoke to breathe

a prayer for the walls against every closing door
an attempt to enter each calling knock
a prayer for the loss I've suffered
under every gain more than I once thought
a prayer for the wolves licking teeth their pointing fingers
stave over my shoulder I never noticed the guilty one I'm always figured
a prayer for the cost of what it took to realize
eyes fixed upon the horizons shining stars setting nights
contemplating the colors in my head I missed the orb burning bright
merry-go-rounds and paper pinwheels I've been too blind to see the rise

crescent suns the half way shape
promises I dreamt I meant to make
the half way shape of crescent suns
what is done is done and done piss poor
I've been too concerned with what is more
what is sore is what is left for me to take
and when what's done is gone
when the moon is here when the sun has shone
you'll find me in the forest fires
a hanging scarecrow a fucking fake
you'll find me nothing more than
the space between the horizons
a half way man a half way shape
nothing left but what the sky can take

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