Dance tonight with sister moon, her shadow sharp, her ache, her empty room
Live tonight for what it’s worth, for the chips and cracks that bend your silver spoon
In mirrors gleam the blades that cut the morning from its tomb of night
Set it free upon the day like dusty wings that flap hapless toward the silver light
Dance the blood magnetic, the height that chases shadows from the mind
The epicentre of seismic shift where fossils sift the flesh once more to find
And digging down while looking up you see that you are blind to cry aloud
And withdraw your hand from the flame that promised warmth within the cloud
Here be dragons, here begone, here beyond, here the corners creep
And the heads roll slow from side to side but do not lose a moment’s sleep
Live tonight for what it’s worth, for the chips and cracks that bend your silver spoon
In mirrors gleam the blades that cut the morning from its tomb of night
Set it free upon the day like dusty wings that flap hapless toward the silver light
Dance the blood magnetic, the height that chases shadows from the mind
The epicentre of seismic shift where fossils sift the flesh once more to find
And digging down while looking up you see that you are blind to cry aloud
And withdraw your hand from the flame that promised warmth within the cloud
Here be dragons, here begone, here beyond, here the corners creep
And the heads roll slow from side to side but do not lose a moment’s sleep
© Pisces the Fuckwit 2007
8 comments:
Sigh.
I knew it was only a matter of time before you removed me from your links list. Surprised it took you this long, actually.
I won't retaliate in kind. I still enjoy your writing - especially this piece.
It always hurts to lose a friend. So by erasing me, do you think you will now be able to wash me off your skin? (ref: video from last post)
red
ps: Like the new signature, Pi. Somehow it is beginning to suit you ....
{{{pi}}}
chlorophyll dreams of dancing dragons and rolling heads...
k:)
This is quite stunning. I so enjoyed (if one might use the word) the warp and weft of your words.
"Pisces Iscariot said...
Well, The Bill Collector is fucking fantastic (excuse temporary loss of vocabulary)
That poem is worthy of Leonard Cohen - Great lumps of melancholy beauty....july 28, 2007"
wow .... it only took two months for me to fall off of my pedestal.
good thing you didn't build it too high, pisces - only skinned my knee, bruised an elbow ...
i think 'woe be gone' would have been more apt, don't you??
you ought to check out Jeff Trott's song The Few that Remain
sort of goes with your theme here ....
fondly,
red
av(&a): Hey thanks for dropping by - will add you to my link list.
And you're added to mine. Don't know if you've discovered him, you might like to check out another blogging poet - John at Wordcarving, you'll find the link on my blogroll.
oops. mistake. what i meant to say was:
"Oh. Woe is me. I begone."
(walking away laughing at her own fuckwittiness)
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