Sweep the skies with all those useless lights, burn away the day with embers that simmer and fade. Watch the horizon line from the precipice, watch it from the thin mirror of that rattling train, distance drowns every longing, it smothers every attempt to see. The nearest mountains, the last town, the gas station or the power line gallows pieced together from hints and shadows. The seal was split long ago, the horsemen nothing but the memories of bones. Any evidence of hope or choice swallowed by that ambling calendar tide, the fierce unrelenting assault of each blurred and bleary day. Kiss who you will, take what you must. There is no lens that will find you a trace of the stitch-work. There is no medicine that will outlast the lingering of the feel.
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you say
Horsemen of a night-triggered shroud
enveloped slowly
coursing along the tick and tug
a clock of doves falling
from the sky
tick and tick
what absence blossoms
after flowering words
forgotten, because of the kiss
because of the lost kiss
A horseman strayed beyond
his own imagination
clustered amidst pinnacles
like grapes just before the dark
the dark that sinks in
crushing with its weight of silence.