I. Mad, Growing as Men

it has been so long since
I have heard your mountainous song!
why, yes, I have heard the jaws
of men, but nothing of your melodies.

such a gust came brewing,
from awaited rants as we all
hid in a tallow-bright barn, snug
around a submissive glow
in apprehended whispers
watching the wax warm,
breaking & bending, we jazzed
with our shadows on the wall
to your eerie-eyed howls!

...we all waited for the barn to
burn.

II. Present, Tense Time

you, lost mystique,
you wanderer, mad kicker of dust,
trudging past boxcar yards, dragging
worn soles in Western, ill & null,

you only make
your mark in the murky madness
of the earth, while drawing unseen
ideas in the sky with your blues...

you cannot conquer
dreams through captured clouds,
your mirage is a silly sheet, unless
you come back down.

but,

you do not hear my screams,
bills cutting your ears for the lack
of change. but you have...

we used to holler across the small
towns with tin cans & tales, to our
separate asylums of knowledge,
sending snails from Linden Lane
to Locust St.,

but now your mailbox on the move
& lack of number has left me aloof.


III. A New Year

I have misplaced you,
your company & your cadence.

I have misplaced myself,
my vigor & my cause.

I miss your vision,
mad for it,

and though my soul
is not made of tallow,
I still melt, waiting
for you to come back
to make me burn
& sing your song.

<font color="#00FF00" size="1">[ February 02, 2006 11:00 AM: Message edited by: machinery ]</font>