Rust In PeaceEngines rusted in deep deep sleep
Through the vines we see at last
Decades exposed have not been
Moss and ivy cover the grief.
Rains come in and dilapidate
The leaning hulks, the tired frames
Empty windows staring out
A hollow voice we could hear sighing
If we understood the language.
So much time has passed, and so little was
Done to stem the tide
The circus is gone, the war is done
We rode the carousel horses out of town
Feeding them sawdust and apple cores.
Don't you know the songs anymore
We recited them by heart long ago
Childhood treasures found amid the lilacs
Have you forgotten the melody?
Lumberjacks once ruled this place
From Mackinaw City to Alpine, WA...
Now we see their ghosts looking back
From faded tintype photographs.
Let's find those engines, dearest darling
Sunken in forest glades, sleeping quietly
On second thought, perhaps we shouldn't
As they lay dreaming of Autumn.
Abide: A Lament for RestLonely shoreline
Rock-strewn and windswept
If I could sit there with you
In winter gales shrieking jealous;
Or recline in Autumn's
Abiding as we do
In steel wombs (vanity)
Distant thunder reverberates in our souls
Bringing us to remembrance
Of the earth's lost corners
Stalwart headlands with shoulders lowered
Against the seas
Welcoming the brutal onslaught
Did not the LORD create these
Where no man lives,
Haunted by gulls
And sand crabs.
In perilous depths
Lost in the green troughs of
A mighty ocean span
Seeing ghosts phosphorescent
The illusion of a soul
Glowing in the abyss
The Guardian Wraith of Starlit SmokeOur sitting here by lantern-light together
In the thick of a teeming snowfall;
The final golden glow,
Against the ancient sovereignty of night,
Like the last petal off a flower.
It is turning three hundred years
He never let the lantern drop.
The illimitable dark and cold and storm,
Whose work is to find out God;
And when they came it seemed with a will
To carry me with them to death.
What comes over a man, is it soul or mind-
(The Devil enters like a sapphire wasp)
Twixt what to love and what to hate
To find out how to get away from God?
No one has seen him stumble looking back
From having died
Inaudibly in thought;
The sorrow of having been left behind.
The land was ours before we were the land's
And having it all made over new
From force to matter and back to force,
RelicI. It's a drugstore night
In a sundown town
The background is
That long, low sound.
Which moans across the
Hear the grass sighing
Neath' halcyon blue.
Softly treading o'er the stars
Nightingale eyes peer
Into my sunbleached soul
Relic of ash and smoke.
II. Cities gleam
Burning copper in
Glass facades become
As lines of clouds
Trundle to their trains.
Whisking them away to lonely castles
The trains run on and on
Humming their electric lullabies
That no mother ever sang.
III. Neon sign spitting sparks
On the rainy pavement
Where are these souls going?
What empty rooms await them?
Preserved in fluorescent stasis
It holds my arms as a friend
While I sip my coffee black.
Exhuming old vinyl dreams
Of palm-lined beaches...
While ninety feet below
As singing trains with purloined hearts run,
I sit here with my Fire King
Rest My LoveRest now, wait
Rest in these arms
Rest now, dear
Till morning is nigh
Rest until the oceans drain away
Rest while the stars fade
Rest awhile, dear
Heaven awaits your smile
Rest in deepest clover, love
Rest in laurel and ivy
While night breezes moan
Sleep the sleep of dreams
Rest amid the driving storm
Rest beneath the gale
Rest in thine Redeemer's arms
Tho' He stands beyond the veil
Ever near in your travail
Nearer still t' your heart
Rest, sweet darling, rest in Him
The One who calls your name.
Dust Settles In The Aisles of TimeEndless rows march on into silence
Weighing heavy so that your ears almost
Catch the non-sound.
You know the one
That white nothing ambient background
Almost-imperceptible radio static-like
Presence Of Time.
For that is what you hear, folks
The tectonic-shift of the space-time
For as soon as you hear it
Your mind unhears it
Assimilating a state of
Intra-Systemic Pseudo-Auditory Revert.
Or P.A.R.I.S. for short.
How often have the smiles
In the aisles
Peered at the dolls in
Then laughed to themselves
As they sashay away,
Leaving the dolls unheeded...
Too often, I tell you
For this to be a lie.
Out of the shadows...