#4

rough draft. 

-

my friends & i

we bear imaginary children

in the caverns of our minds

compare the luminous sparkle of

emerald eyes

to our own

to the strange searchlights

of former lovers

wishing to cast off two headed
monsters

who suck the pale pink sweetness of electricity

from fragile forms

tearing their way inside 

with sharpened talons pointed at
the fluttering throats
of swans

tearful words that plead
to spare sculpture,

eyes frightened of torn painted worlds,

feet filled with crumbling plaster

constructed tin islands from ashtrays

which are smoldered upon
the shells of bodies

breasts and hips

drifting along calmly

gray mirazes like clouds

they could pass through

with only the lightest exhale

at the end of the day
we stand in dusk's
marble blue snow

watch as the headlights fall from

the moist hilltops
like pearls from a broken string

they scream
like our own monsters in the darkness

as the stars are lighted one by one

by god's weary hands

guiding us

gently into a still violet morning

where we simply are

no

one



SJ