Wings

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(Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee a Second Before Awakening, by Salvador Dali)

 

Sometimes there is a place,

an opening in the clouds

we shoot up into,

demanding God’s presence.

 

Within every cloud

you search the sky,

rip the sun apart,

tear through supposed

storms meant to kill,

but for your angels.

 

We revert to our innocence

while searching for

what is left of our

intact souls.

 

Take me to that path,

if not to God,

then to the perfect silence

of the Elysian Fields

where those without sin

walk a profound nothing

to drown

like a dying religion.

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Harm’s Way

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Robert Rauschenberg Collage

They tore into the cities / invading and occupying homes / staked like territorial wounds / to the mass graves / of our ancestors / limitless access / the flames of power / fueled by delusion / take whatever is left / from the wood pile / and burn it / burn the rest /

A dangerous grief / foreshadowed / the ruins / of a shackled war zone / the potential of all that could become / buried beneath / hues of apathy and stone / careful now / with what is found / the weather is about to turn /

I would have kept their secrets / protected them as faithfully / or as often / as gold is stripped /from an original mind / they knew of / possibly saw / the exploitation/  all the blood / yet silent / for years possibly /

I was violated motherfuckers/  we all were / the word / no / was never a part of the equation / those who spoke out / against the crimes / were rumored to be insane / as if insane / was the worst thing to be / loons / some whispered / some whispered it louder than others / so we were never to be believed /

We are human beings / goddamit / people / freely accessed / stalked / to the blackest rooms / of our minds / I remember counting the ridges / on the cellar floor / in and out of consciousness/ mockingbird incantations circling / the barely audible / fire / of my dying mind / Even in my most liberated wastelands / there were never any questions / to refuse./