Lost

lost.

at what cost.

to unravel the music of the stars?

to travel through the cyclone to the source?

course the energy to the surplus

caress the satin dress on a half-moon sleep

where weeps a darker mind

on the blind streets where hides a comets light;

either night or day

when beats the cold hearts drum

so I dance with the demons of the lie

through the hallmarked craters of the oldest moon

where runs the secrets of my scarlet lime;

time.

it is never mine alone.

all but skin and bone on a concrete shore

dining with the cormorants and the bleached sun

on a yuletide log sunning the legs of my sneeze;

now as clear as day

with my cats eyes on a rat tails soup

diving with the coxless four off our beetroot bridge

treading bread and breaking my grapes for the crows.

still lost.

at what cost,

to unravel the secrets of the dream?