Alive, (Know Me):

They are clouds – with every bone left
softened clouds of breathless bone:
My life -- beyond that grim chill veil from beyond
with cares momentum and the staleness of iron grindings
let not that silver-voiced someone – come to you like the spell of spells.
My days I live with pride
slipping beneath the breathless price.
I'm sunlight.
I'm sun.
Insofar I might only enter in
the heaven of my own mind.

A world built on
puerile promises. Kiss everything carefully to remember.
kiss and stroke it --
darkness can't hide the world
can it go back into hiding?
Earth-ringed twines that sever out of God?
What say (naivety)?
It must be the bone's terror-less sound
hastened from day to day:
hand in hand we stand
mute among the boneyard sepulchre & the churchyard
when it is just the leaves shaking grim past
evening clouds that shiver still nothing,
things that live in a sanctified memory.

Within the whole it is possible that gods may enter,
eyes will tear through the movies welling up in that worm-eaten shrine
under nerves too small to hide from sleeping seems like never was
and will be in that untimely deserved haze.

Sing gentle and sad and soft there mouldering alongside
awful dreams that ring true, &
half the vision I
tower by a moon’s breadth
that now day lives no more.
By that grim ray
the god of sunlight, kneels, to pray
and all deserve his wormy touch;
that here below things will be still again .

My tears grow beyond everything
to happen on a life
to tend and care,
what clouds may pass
a day at the fair.