Oracular Theme

Send out the rocket dog, send out the ending. When the end ends we are all busted up about the death of myth. There’s no one to check if this hangout is dreamers all the way down. Me dreaming you and you dreaming the dirt I thought I walked on. And the world dreamed by some blasted leaf. Oh collection, oh page fraught with tedious wonder. Or is it loss? 

Who am I even asking? 

Our fingers test the flight from which we wrest our gods. All days are days of special finding, and every place a finding place. Can’t all skies look back down at us and ask? I’m the same light I’ve always been, only I’ve lost everything but my way. 

Winter Waves, Ice World

I’m finally full of all those things. Bold numbness that I take pride in, rattling both my hands. I’m my own companion, whispering “someday” in the night. As I drift along your wet hillside, I hear the dogs and the rifles and I want to run. But there’s no continent without time. I’m the gutter and the aching cheap smile, wishing for a more tender history. How I work the ghosts in me, shout at them to slide me through the missile tube. Point me at that moving shadow, those drowning eyes.