Skin plastered against tattered holes
of a torn blanket.
Rough threads of
unwoven time
scratching against frozen thighs
She sighs, glancing beyond
a shoulder tucked close to
heart
beyond the cold
frosted window she see nothing
nothing at all

Fingers caress
these holes, torn,
of this blanket, worn;
She threads time
like a shoulder tucked
close to the heart,
the start of nothing
at all

The moon collapsed over horizons split
shattered space in
illuminating mysterious truths
as time melts
answers hang above broken canopies
towering conceptions move as the rabbit
dances
feet wrapped in dew fed grass
energy from within
fleeting realities in a world
undefined

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Spinner

The final note glistened from the ceiling
mocking me
hanging in the air, perched in the rafters as
light floods the room with the
color of thunder. The
masses rise in a cacophony
of silence and he wonders,
wonders as worker bees draped in black
pour from the darkened and dusty curtain which is
stained with past dreams and passions.
Its ruffles witness to the rise and fall of many.
They scamper and he wonders,
wonders if they are more of a collective thought
collapsing tresses, snaking
wires to only hit the road one more time. To travel down
north for that final curtain.

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