March 26, 2003

• WAS
  
  

  Today was the last time that the rain song
  Floated on the hills of sorrow
  As they waved their grass-flecked whale-back ways
  All the way to rock-sand shores
  Where foam-specked tides swam for days
  And dropped off the edge of the cliffs,
  Pouring out ivory froth into
  Deep ebony space.
  
  

  Yesterday was the last time that my hand
  Played the violin from the dizzied dismal heights
  Far above the brown-dirt land
  Where the devils believe in something other than tango.
  The melodies seemed to span
  The distance between the dancing fingers
  And the still, blind eyes
  That spoke of dust and sand.
  
  

  Today was the last time,
  And it makes them sad that my mouth is open,
  As if I am about to speak,
  Yet my eyes have fallen still.
  Close them,
  The waves flow out to the edge of the sea
  And the clocks begin to slow.
  Today was the last time
  I held it in my hand
  And now the crows have nestled in my hair
  And borne my soul away.
  

  
  

  

  • 12:31 am
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