To The River's End

to the river's end

dust-bowl and hidden foul a soft retreat.

no grain of time to wrap one finger-length,

still shapes two servant's more on bended knoll;

when here is all but nothing left on edge,

masters wind and silence through a gift of jaw,

cloud-raw as white as flesh.

chanting flock's of caged birds

to blow away the dead-worm-bait,

hook to love to lips the hanging kiss,

once skull of man now horoscope

a needle to the stars in a heavens cell,

calm unrest with beast of rocks

that grope and swell all inches of the sun;

to the world that cannot die,

that cannot screen it's eyes from given death.

in this beginning came the lover's sleep.

dreaming scars but ripples in a cold night air.

forget-me-not for sinners unforgiven plague,

vengence comes as air to hill,

to spill it's might on the idle bone

buried bald with healing hand and cherry composite;

to the world of ends;

the sleeping eyes burning bright it's tears,

older than the brave man's ears

running straight this bending year,

to the spine that floats to the rivers end;

the curse of Spring.

in time to ask of who, of why; of when;