crickets thrum on the still of the star ...
hidden by murky incandescent veils of circus clouds
ruching into the corners of this night
dark & belligerent
drunken & tight ,,,,
echoes of restlessness root at my heart
while the ghost of your corporeal & tattered self
shove the borders of our story to the edge of some splintered
shabby shelf .....
.... upon which hangs a forested cloak
weaved of this gypsy-love tale ancient & battered
time means nothing, but please
STOP banging into the fragile seams of my soul ...
to the stillness of the stars
hold this moment
yellow-bird yellow & hope red
feel the weight & brilliance of that story ..
and the magic pockets of this
dark night ,,,,