Saturday, May 14, 2011

A Static Plea for a Dreamful Receiver

The clamour of rainfall befell
each mystic silence
hovering over the confounding cranium
lodged between myself and the mystical.
Now I watch from the window
the flood crawling up the darkened road
where I wholeheartedly
let my dry thoughts die
at the tip of my glimmering tongue.
so sincere,
has never reached receiving ears.
If only for the sake of joy
intentions could be met
without a word
even while sitting stunned.

My dreams perplex me
beat me into the pillow,
suffocating the slightest morsel of certainty
which could cast bright boundaries within
walking day illusions of longing.

Weary of sickening notions of time,
a friend once told me
the simple days are rare.
All I replied was this;
no fell-swoop sees itself
pave golden our grand wantings.
Surly the darkened pavement
knows its own weight
only by the day,
and we only know loss
when a void burdens our sights
leaving us motionless.
It is a shame when neither
can find a word to interpret
or action to mimic.
I am on the ground
with my cheeks puffed out
holding my breath
for a delightful receiver
if but for a moment of their doings.

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