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
