Darkness in the dust rising from the trees at night

Glittering like a pinball machine,
like silver surfing on the water
when you're looking up at the skies.
disintegrating atoms exploding in mercury.

overhead....dreams; fluid, moving, swirling.

More dreams...pianos, petals, metal in synergy.
Watching the seasons curl..
watching the back of my eyes...
Azure blue velvet gasses steaming.
like hail on a tin roof streaking by,
Like flaming swords,
like love at the end of the world...

I don't know how or what it is...

But I'll be there

When the only reaction
is no reaction
no satisfaction
or reasonable suggestion,
just open mouths,
and the voids...

Got to break away
from the frozen ice
clinging to my life
announce myself
in someone else's eyes
not taking shots
at close range targets
like those firing ranges
from so long ago.

in the last few notes
from the evening nocturne
where darkness leaks
from the holes in the floor
replacing the light
with the blackness
that hides inside
the holes in my mind
where I turn the key
and close the door.

Is there a pill
that can make one turn back
or at least turn away from
the bad things we sometimes
drift through and into?
like no plans existed,
or were somehow erased.
a veil was lowered,
not lifted
over oceans of shards
glissening like razors
exploding in the apocalypse...

Sounds-Like

Silvery metal spikes
pierced the darkness
of an unlit mind.
And in blackness,
Where all thought forms
A hand reached out and down.
Hands made of silver
and hands made of fire.
Disappearing over and over
like silver arrows in a stream,
like brushstrokes that paint away
the years of confusion
and lost desire.
demons banished to limbo,
defeated by 10,000 guitar notes...
or one Durutti Column solo.

The Ground Beneath me(haystacks for dead french painters)

When it will give way
to the remaining days
to all the strands of hay
outside in a field somewhere

we were running around
time cast aside
tree fruit ripening
but we're dying on the vine.

Its been a long time
out here
in these fields.
where fallow and formless
the days became aimless
and they were mine.

one line merges
into the next
they all connect themselves
somewhere where you and the pen
break up and fall apart.
You tell it your secrets
reveal yourself
in art
but you reveal yourself
no matter how
because that's the way you are.