Where the cold and hot
meet in violence
we survived

time was lost
life was lived in fallen grace
to preserve the love

at the edge of the bottomless mountain
when the end approached
a break in the cold instead warmed our shrunken eyes

the juxtaposition calmed
slowed and flowed
as hope bubbled from locked memories

and the tendrils of healing warmth
picked us up and delivered us
inviting us into the vaultless dream.

A hundred years, and it comes to darkness.

The lava flows have cooled—tepid weak streams
barely reaching the distant, lonely byways once full of excitement.

What was a full puzzle now has pieces missing, removed to protect
by objective phenomenon, event clouds hovering endlessly till the end.

Most events inflict, but that long ago faded from dread.
Some reach the inner core, if just for a moment ….

On those rare occasions, one question is posed:

“Where is the sun now?”

In a pond were the river starts
is a little ball of light

It has memories of mechanical men
and distant flashes

Some of the memories haven’t happened yet
But that’s alright, you don’t need to worry

If they’re nightmares, they will haunt
like cautionary tales made weird

If they are happy dreams they will tease
and let you trick yourself away from their warmth

But that is if you pay attention
and if you do, better hold on to your pants

’cause those that don’t will drive you batty
and you’ll find yourself in the blocks

your world inside out, your frustration mounting
everything collapsing and forever dieing

but really it’s just your ennui trying to kill you
ha ha, silly ennui, playful beastie

At the end of the day is a big parade
There are songs to choose from
some of them are happy

The colors float by in a uniform fashion
the old people fade away
the young eat candy

If we stand in the sun with the rain at are backs
we make believe its happening
and share our concern with others

But you don’t need to know this tomorrow
it was long ago in another life
when you were still a weed

and god still loved you

To walk down the street in a blinded defeat
is to forest at dawn, soon to be cut down
is to man in a mask with his hand on a flask
is to weather the storm for a golden hued morn

hands cold, stiff under the mittens
flattered by rubbings of home-hungry kittens
taken by something once here, now forever gone
flattened in obsequience and burning with song

god knows your there, so its ok if you doubt him
devil is busy with his pizza, but his memory won’t lessen
man is busy with his penis, so pray just ignore him
robot is learning to think, so lets get up and welcome him

I won’t pretend to think you know why I’ve come
I will pretend I’m a hero, a dragon, an animal with a gun
I won’t drown my sorrows in wine women and song
I will envy those that do, and wonder where I’ve gone wrong