d minor, 626

how days fall, elements gathered into wreaths swelling with thorns shed from the yard of vernal fullness. a word stains blank papers with flesh of the glowing city. grails of snow dew and pages from bradbury books withering time on bare cobble stone-
how roads, unseen to the rush of blizzard, are silvering to gold to silver. seasons paint glass, etched on the ruins of coral meadows. to walk and walk is to step on abyss after abyss- until streets border on the arbor where even typhoons breathe the mirage of eden’s hum.

how the shroud of death flowers spreads along stone of a tiny grave. softer are screams now, softer than tender notes of a rose. softer are deeper. closer to absence. a tortured hymn gathers dew of sacrifice, the way a fragile hummingbird inhales the final blow of northwinds. jars of hitodama shiver, a quiet candle scatters gazes. particles of warm soil pierce the skin, a thread binds the storm to the frenzy of delirium-
how the bladed musk of rustling wires against the saplings whispers night. not the slightest sense of garden, strange apathy of the path, whenever hollow hours seep the desert sand aeons beneath-
isolate- reflection from the cloister of a mirror. voices are echoes starving into the avenue of dim lanterns to the lighthouse underwater and not back. soot exhales mauve black, a sudden flashback over the wood’s cemetery dyed in the lore of symphony solo. flower’s blood streams through the stem, exiled, of exile.
how mirror rooms fade to reflections of non-being, the subtle way maples bend themselves in the morning to fade the nocturne air.
in the cloud-forest, as doves of tenebrae forecast innocence of breeze, someone’s in need of her bones shattered against the fence of 2 a.m. exists in reveries of a sky sparrow. floats, not in life. carried silent in the armor of white, only not to read the lips of stars-
how days fall, the hand of destiny tightening oblivion to oblivion in another’s mind. the lucid vestige of memory rain disappears beneath pavements, except a chamber of the heart.

evidence eternal –





softer steps
of the wakeful dark


2 thoughts on “d minor, 626

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