Monday, April 29, 2013

the dream

Under the black flag
We listen.
 In the thunder of the early morning
The verses unfold
Deeply through the various layers of this
Psychic universe
I heard them
In a tongue so foreign
Beyond this realm, beyond these vanities
Striking a chord that
reverberated within
driving all this cheap thoughtless crap
retroactively into itself
as a mirror that cannot withhold
the deluge that inhabits  
all the spaces between us
the rising tide, the waxing and waning crescent
dictating all that this world was ever meant to be
slipping away into the minutia
that would later define an existence  


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