on oceans still floating

the easy way down to the shore
has no more bumps then your usual road
no more breaks then the normal tide
and no more reasons for me to hide.

last song driving.

minds to whole up
divvy out and reckon forth
reprogramming miscellany
introverses and EXIST ence.
write whole the prophet
self is the sayer
dancing on imaginations finger
this twirling lover
a thousand drops a second
and seconds = hours
and fixing yr fever
oh this lovers miser
awake again
dreaming
alive once more
and screaming
faulting the favor, a vice for the victor
hearts can soar without these wings
or the felonies that bind
another twisted fairytale
another right mind.

(do not awake the demons)
(do not be made a slave)
(if this moment is forever)
(then with you i think i'll stay)
(a flock of butterflies come to your bedside)
(a handsome riddle to fill your ear's eye.)

in front of a flood.

kissed closed the envelope
slick residue all beneath
whom he'd give this to
another session of acupuncture
a second escaped the coveted lips
the waking life
that always insists existence
otherwise.
otherwise.
otherlives.
different mothers
different eyes
can jump canyons,
mark themselves suitors
and whisper secrets through closed mouths
a finger to the sky.

if only the holding
did not require end
there'd be no more questions
to worry to be in
just limbs full of body
jasmine and honeysuckle insides
warm for the fitting
warm for the light.

(i believe in magic)
(if you do it just right)
(something out of nothing)
(hope without a chance)

cast loose the vigil
candle in the window
he's coming home again.

just be happy.

ran around the world backwards
hoping it's spinning would follow
so head could still itself
and throat could swallow
all these impurities in the system
all these ditches for digging

make the trek past the worms
and to the point you finally learn
you must fix the disaster
'fore it is ever
and not spend a second
in this stopped traversal
this moment that's never over
ripping 'part the clover
not making now better.

let us not forget.

it's not the moments we can't handle,
those broken seconds of dischord and atrophy,
where traversing the globe becomes unneeded;
it's the ones where breath reaches neck
where we fall inside our steps
more then appreciative and direct
of what is here.
how it's held.
when is now.
(he'd fall on that steeple)
(just to be with you)
(he'd break both his ankles)
(just to walk beside you)

and then i woke up.

breath on my neck
a comfortable solution
to the hands 'round my back
keeping me in
this dream that i have
where everything works
and the time doesn't sap
interest from hearts
and distance is no scab
in this better place
and merely impatient
for bigger things.

light bends.

i can pass through shadows
reach out and grab
but come up empty
and still in my ear
this angel sings
and hearts all a-quiver
eyes paste themselves shut
and dreams fling through
the dissolved reality
to something
some future everything
worth holding out both hands for
and waiting.