In the heat of battle,
My forehead sweats and palms
Wet (is it from the haze?)
Flying higher than birds,
The twinkle of stars
Illuminate the brown
Pits, brown as dirt,
And I narrow my eyes.
(For I will not reach those heavens!)
My dusky voice echoes
In caves, and stalactites
Sound these sighs of things.
Alone, I dream in bars.
Alone, I fly in smoke.
Alone, I sing to walls,
And dim streetlights
Cast shadows down streets.
All of these men speak,
And yet I think.
My voice is shrill and shallow.
My dreams fill in dusk.
For when I dream, I fly.
For when I dream, I drink
Staled wines delightful to these
Blackened eyes!
Language is the great equalizer!
(So why are these dreams silent,
Spilling streams of phasing,
Pictured clouds? Shadowing
The hills below?)
I narrow my eyes, through
The smoky bar.
I look at closed doors,
Walking through misty moors,
Kicking chair legs with
My toes. Fingering
Yellowed pages, and sore.
I recline my back to
Slump in my chair.
Slowly sipping at my whiskey.
Drowning my world with
Waterfalls. To see the
Animals drink. Drink
And drink, and drink
We are the choir invisible.