Monday, May 23, 2011

Blurred Lights

A burning warning
scrapes my veins
begetting inaudible tones
echoing in screaming fog
that rolls heavily along
empty corn-fields.
Our eyes fill with deep humming,
which in steaming tracks
crack in the May nocturnal reflections.
Hold tight onto this elbow
to keep watch on my flowing blood,
in the occasion that it is paralysed
by what may be a
material breach in comfort,
a two-tone folded cut-out
projected onto empty windows by a feeling.

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