above the very oilspot of me this eve,
it shimmers; it seems ever twisting
as it rides outward, up onward
toward that dividing line of sea (sometimes sky).
It was to this scene that I remain pulled,
Never realizing it was but the rain that splits the two,
not shuddering, barely weeping over us.
trying to quit that booze, the scratchy flavor of
sometimes drying eyes adding their own mesmer.
For its iris season out there, as we chase the last drippings of sun,
some solar curiosity that draws us, still winking fast
(how it pulls up, up - my soul going there too.)
Remaining flustered on how to cross this hot sand,
on if its feet, or a hand, or stammer calling onward.
I swear I saw tears upon that water
a slowing of the sharp view of the head,
so deceived as to need a new locale, new destination
No name, no time, no me to list.
The fall upon this world of scandal, that, a scoundrel
I swear I saw that sky ripped in twain,
I swear I felt a heart so pulled,
I swear I came around.
One that could be better met.
Leave your goods out there for better gods to pillage, I
only rest here in the blame.
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