the fire and the ice and the winds and the waves
but I’ve forgotten
the way he used to laugh;
such is life, they say
has carved away at the cliff face of my memories,
the same way sand carves away at the stones upon the seashore.
everything we left unspoken
but I’ve forgotten
the words we spoke, under the unfaithful stars.
I remember the ending,
but not how it all began,
because such is life,
or at least that’s what they say.
my life in symphony with yours;
such was our life, together –
and such is how it ended –
two divergent paths,
having met at a crossroads,
inevitably returning to their separate ways –
an ill-fated love,
doomed from the start;
but such is life.
A blanket of honeyed silence
Fell over the world last night,
And in that first moment of stillness
I had only the clouds of my breath,
Crystalline as they rose,
To remind my soul
Not to flee towards the fractals
Of the frozen sea.
She is pleased
On inauspicious days,
Days when the sun rises so red
That you’d swear it’d been painted
With the blood of ten thousand cowards.
In the sharp, salt tang of treason;
She’s a city-slicker, picker of fights;
For her, valor is not a good enough reason,
And youth is the only worthy season.
She’s the one who sways our hips,
Licks our lips, sips
Her coffee as her eyes meet yours,
And she is like the moon,
Bright and bare,
And it is she
With whom you fall hopelessly in love;
I sometimes wonder –
Will you settle with me,
Or would you rather I surrender,
I come from the forest
Where dreams go to die,
And the smell of loam,
Deep and dark,
Disguises our every secret;
Where the silence,
Impenetrable as the fortress along the shore
Where impossible wishes spawn,
Swallows every sound.
The Prince of Hell was wearing a crown of thorns,
And the fruits of the tree had similarly fallen, ripe and round and ready,
Upon the fertile soil of an Eden in sublime abandon,
And Lucifer’s heart, hollow by day,
Had drunk deeply of the dusk light
In a world upon which the sun never set,
But now, as night bled into day,
He wondered how to strike his devil’s bargain with the unmerciful clock,
Contemplated why so many philosophers
Had wondered how many angels can dance upon the head of a pin,
When it was so clear to him
That he was the only one who would ever be made to do so;
“The Devil made me do it,”
He’d say, delirious,
As another night passed,
As the evening surrendered her sunset light,
I saw your spirit move in darkness;
Saw her fleeing in the night,
Bore witness to her perfect, flaming flight.
Look like the sea of my dreams,
They are the rough waters
Into which I have fallen,
And these November currents
Are as brutal as they come.
They are fragments
Of a different life,
The one I’d thought I’d live,
The one that came and went
As swiftly as Lucifer did,
His chains swinging, singing as they fell,
And Him –
Weeping, not for himself,
But for mankind.
They are the fault lines
Upon which my city is built,
The fractalized wooden sentinels
That stand in lieu of worshippers
Within the House of the Savior
After it’s abandonment
Some time long and long ago.