When the FIRE
Washed upon cool chambers
Of inner sanctums
Running ruby silt,
Vacant stares to roads
Leaning STRANGE
Made moons fear the face
They would
Carve obsolete,
To timing on repetitive
Labors
Dulling nerve
UNIVERSES
Tempting ouja
Recollections…
Broken moon visage,
Have you any
Love
For wayward souls
On tipped off roads
Floating into
Re-alignment
To their estranged
MaKeR?
Fumigate me one
More time,
Make rise
To stained glass
Suns
Awaiting,
Your leaving,
Smoke gestures bidding,
Dunked in the
Absent tongue.
Tilted moon,
Someone’s wayward
Touch,
From incandescence,
Ridden on Dreams
Sound
Placates
Within
Silent orbs…
Writing, the Universe and whatever occurs to me
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