yesterday is ash...

 photo by Edward Rinaldi ©

a blanketing pale

we drag ourselves

each, a piece

of recent history

we are tilling clouds

we are hidden in the vapor

we are pillories

we are siphon keys

we are banquets

we are vanquishes

we are wishing gone awry

we are kind

we are over eager

we are magnesium

we are burn level bright

we are what we search out

we are chasing life too tight

we are too quick

we are too ready

we are declarations of dead

we are pulse echoes of stars

we are dependant

we are the weight of every fallen piece

we are out wading the faith of capitulation

we are souls held together behind a veil

we are exactly what is needed sometimes

we are every sense beyond the five we were born with

we are original sin come back home

air speaks

in tide languages

harmonies, destinies

choices and chances  

tomorrow listens

ever listens

while whoring

for anyone

foolish enough

to give up their today

tomorrow always knows

what grails we seek

tomorrow billows

circling round songs

in the hydrogen,

oxygen and hydrogen

wings and gills

spill the certainty

of books

they are the best

flight attendants

free will and drinks

are more than

mere magazines,

headphones and

enough exhaustion

to sleep for awhile…

vignette 1

rosebud and samara

are drifting through

titular escape

this is the captain speaking

reality is tape looping you

into a series of stop motion films

do you hear any other unseen

offstage direction, asking

if you are all right

vignette 2

please know

wired phones kill

radiation loops nets

plasma is old bone ordinance

keyboards make alliances

nouns, articles and assumptions  

of predilection have formed a union

they jockey for leadership

on inside rails

verbs always want

to be Jesus

they say watch us

go right where

you want us to be

vignette 3

fever and delusion

purposing singularity

like a syringe  

drawing nectar

to poison the past

gate water is skin

guarding the rain

blood is a sentry

eyelashes bend thoughts

peer colors into bombs

plunge brushes into pools

pattern shadows

scatter desire

from candles

to the wall

house lights dim

and you hope

today’s still here

when morning comes

to wake you

EJR ©