A Certain Fragility . . .

Sometimes I sense a fragility
in my house of cards and find
myself frantically looking
for a way to shore myself up
against the gentle breath of the breeze
that seeks to snuff out this unstable frame

lost in the construction
of a desperate devising . .
never able to push
the way out . . for a lack of doors . .
the walls . .
the walls they haunt me . ..

The dream is always there
the hope is always fair . . .
we say . .  we say my friend
this was the other day
I walked with you
I talked with you
I held you by  the hand . . ..

there was a child who saved a quarter a week
to buy the microscope
that sat on the top shelf
of the White Front store . .


the smell of silver as it slips
through the fingers . . .
a memory of yesterday . . .
oh so long ago,
the fairies danced beneath the stream . . .
like smoke drifts in the wind . . .
a life so short . .  so temporal . .
snuffed out on a whim . .

The stars are always bright
on the other side of the clouds . ..
I dream, I dream my love
that I was meant to die . .
and yet I find the chance to cry . .
and grab the heart of life . .

I have no patience for this small amoeba . .
slowly, slowly dying against the light
of my bright sun . . .
. . . a sort of love developed . . .
the seeking of something unknown . . .
a world of alien population . .
smeared thinly on a strip of glass . . .
the voiceless . . .
trembling and demented
existing unknown beneath
my white hot gaze . .

The heart,
the heart is always black
my love
with ancient hardened blood . . .
it aches within the breast of me . ..
and etches symbols . . .
upon my brittle bones .. ..

What will come tomorrow
is as eternal
as what came before yesterday
My place in the moment,
like the crawl of the amoeba
is to dig holes
in the face of time . . .


I find a way to travel small distances
into the unimaginable . . .
never taking the consequences
of being a god
over an endless universes . . .

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