In my dreams we were in Charleston imagining apparitions and clowns

I wonder how we could devise plans to become ghosts together in a tourist town to scare off kids and lovers alike

And seeing how they still wanted us around even

The devil horned

The pale-blue eyed

The predatorial smiles

The dirty skinned

 

A Murder of Crow,

A Flight of Snow Geese

In Winter’s frigid manner

Their feet lifting off from the ground into a frightening flight

Wings whirring in the wind

To a bleakness up above

With a singled eye

Blindfolded

 

To be, but afar from the clashing & clamoring of the flock

To be, but still, quiet…beautiful-alone in the dark

Only to listen to a drop of water from the mental spigot running smoothly and softly across the rusted pipe of every dream you ever thought you were part of

To a childhood in the dust of Poe’s dream

Today’s sour hour is now,

Returning to The Higher

To begin again

Still, quiet…beautiful-together in the dark

 

Mixed Media by MMM