Two Views On The Street Where You Live Carravaggio / Electrilinaria

Tiptoe (In A Quiet City)

the creaking floor
unbrushed dust under husks
of dead bugs in the window sills glistening
wind blows, quiet / mercy / set for sailing days
little boy dreams if freedom
instilled with science
sirens, always sirens
in the dark hours
the bodies fall
like clock points
like victimless heroes
laid out to be weathered by the caustic rains

peaches gleam
in the repetition of harvest
captured in this painting
creatures scurry by in the measured hush
of the silos
the pomegranates crushed under
hooves of horses marching in random figures
ghosts of cowboys
riding leather and burlap carpets
dancing in the sky
in ethereal antiquity
riding into silence
sun forgotten trees.

autumn early
here now to earth
any one thing
kept in stasis
too long
left for
forgetting
laughter
running
jumping
standing
barely
quiet
eventually. /

Searched Ebony Extinction Immortal (before "You Were As A Criminal, Kid")

it all came on like a slow rush
a steady pulsing star from
far away
over hills to the sea
from halfway through this story
light laid out but taking years to reach us

was I blind before
at a distance
you there in my blue shadow
walking over black street charms and disarmed doorways
drunk in the thrall of finding some arms
attached to a lover

searched for you
a catch for a trip diverted
hands ripe like thunder in similar but not
same steps

try pull on masks
try to take others off
look for your face
on whoever walks through the door
and fool with disappointment
but it was not you who finally destroyed the illusions
I stopped looking for due to clouds
but found in blue skies inside
you; no longer longing through long nights
lost in dreams of ghost locusts
dream nets to cast and catch
and dismiss
but never room enough to capture
how big this all is
sit inside it
weather storms
astride it
sail off on our dreams tonight
we'll create the photographs
even if life drifts somewhere cruel
or disastrous

America / Scotland / Therapy?

We Can Always Meet Again In Dreams

Fog City Blues

Harry's Early Summer Soliloquy

just a few hundred meters from the sea
what haunts the cliffs of eden
the footsteps that depress the grass are erased in seconds
by the sun and what could have been

a million people
and then a a million people more
and all their ancestors
awash on these shores
all the neophytes and acolytes
and jacobites
looking for redemption
and the light
but they're gone
like fading laughter
echoing in the darkest reaches
of love

but I
never saw
the edges to find out
if they were parallel
if they were gorgeous
or just a hollowed out shell
that the sea washes through
in the hands of
children wishing for mermaids
with flowing hair
and songs of doom
they let their locks down
in this seaside town

the birds fly by
where once lizards escaped from the drag of time
to grow wings, what other creatures were here
when eons tortured this mountain
once at the bottom of the ocean
where you cannot see
all the things your cells
were once supposed to be
faint creatures made out of nothingness
going to nothingness
being as nothing is
feigning importance
of existence
solitary clings to you like rust
gathers in the cracks of the clocks
stranded in back rooms tackled via gold
where you forget to dust

(unfinished)