Black ink and sunbeams poetry

Way-finderturned away,your heart, a paradox,carves out its own way our story, evanescent,began upon the bluffs,above the bay,beneath the waves, When, at last,even those words whichspilled up ceaselessly refuse themselves a page,what else remains butto cast our fate upwards,at the close,reimagined

the world beneathus tremblesshaken free fromwhat it is was meantto beour death-knealechos down,drawn out,past ourselvesa muddy fatetwice inherited,the Sumerian songplayed in circlesin the bones

Dream-catcherwashed away,the glass-blown spiralbetween our toeskeeps vigil,fragments of misplacedmemoryworn smooth,andlost betweengrains ofsand

Grief-feather,your failures, compounding,fracture a patchwork star the gentle heart,in company, insufficientfinds itself misshapen,condemnation from within,a constellation,heaven-ward you,having broke from yourselffind yourself again,in the dust,out of touch,captured betweenlove and desire

Dread-touchwasting,our violet orchid on the shelfonce too turnedits face to the east Severance,shivering,a fortune teller beneaththe cherry tree,cut free our fatefrom the tangled threadsof misfortune wander-fugue,compoundingin the silence,one day somethinggood will come andcary you, westward,away from me

Rudy eye,your crescent beak affixed,deviations of despair keepyour confidence forested,the world-shard,withering, falls away,sea grass,grasping at your fingertipsturns its face, our lamplight,swallowed,becomes a beacon,manifestations of thingslost and discardedspringing into to being,slip,through clasped hands,beyond supplication,away from you

Vagrant,born-again, in timesalvation too became justanother fable your life,dressed down, dancing,found something in the dustatop the butterflies crest the sunlight,sinking,cast its secrets to the sea,the twilight,singing, alone,counted youwho has knowonly suffering,as something yetincomplete

Cottonwood,shedding, lays down tomorrow,in ribbons, drawn out,an abstraction of circumstancecarpets the field your rage,unconstrained, spills over,your rage, turned inwardsstains the flowers red memory,a refuge, Cottonwoodpacked down,into a pillowcase,between the branches,smelling sweetlyof betterdays

Iron-sworn,contemptuous,in the quiet, burdenedstill by that which you,afflicted, once refused iron-heart,your lovers whimsyetched, ephemeral,in days past, holdher memory yet uponyour flesh salt-skin,adrift, one dayall that too willplunge, anchored down,into the sea