the buildings on a rainbow rim. strike the
clocks in the skies and in the distance your
the windows will whither away from the
splattering glass that gasps from your eyes. watch
the birds struggle for flight as they drown in
water and light.
the green trees turn to black as the ancient
mariner rises, where in the distance
your figure lingers in the blue shadows.
pale, pale, pale
is your blood as it dreams, dilutes and drains
away. watch how it trickles splatters on
the pavement. no-every-thing can save you,
the whispy figure
of our century, from the invisible
distance between the here and now. Can you
rid the desire of salvation from
the slough of desire?