walk-on-air

Clouds wait, heavy with rain, for the reconciliation of sisters strayed too far from home. Old unforgivable hurts, made unforgettable by blood and time, are weighed in the balance... Are we found wanting? Oh, to cross the river of Acheron and reach Elysium! The burden of generations borne on boats too small to hold the weight, two oarsmen blindly fighting for control... Each futile stroke merely moves the circle. Clouds open in desperation - sisters, come home.

The soundtrack of six films on a CD A swing in sunset gardens Eyes that say what your lips cannot. Happiness opens up like petals of a rose.

We had dinner on a boat. I tasted squid and wine as if for the first time. Your company, like moonlight, brightening without blinding me, you soothe, and I imagine hypothetical romance... She tastes like vanilla and wine , you might have thought. And I'd be thinking how on Earth we'd come so far.

There are things which it is too soon to say and this is one: you're captivating me. It is too soon to say but there are things which remain true anyway.

You played me Adagio for Strings, sat in your office that night. The music was alive and it was a soul and it was a heart and it was my heart. The notes seeped into me, reminding me of long forgotten dreams. I wanted to write. A perfect cadence hung in the air as I realised I'd forgotten to breathe.

In the early days of summer, you strum the soundtrack to my heart on your guitar. Between sunbeams and play fights, our symphonies combine.

Railway stations like antiques fly past as the same piece of track that brought me here takes me further away from you. We're poles apart, the miles stretching out between us, though I can still taste you on my lips and feel the warmth of your hand in mine. It will never be easy. There will always be some gap to bridge but even that thought is not enough for me to give it all up. The gap may be infinite, but the bridge is made of solid gold, and nothing could keep me from reaching you.

That night you caught me (as if I could ever hide from you). In a deserted shelter, we looked out at the waves chasing each other like dragonflies or children playing tag. It's always midnight on the seafront here with you, the bitter air scarcely touching me as I snatch each precious second that I can with you.

I like to view the world through a sepia lens, faded pictures holding a thousand lives in visual memory. That moment, frozen in time, capturing your heart like a child captures grasshoppers. This was our beginning: an eternity of hope in your eyes and a hope of eternity in mine. For one glorious afternoon, my only purpose is climbing over rocks with you.

I am blessed by miracles disguised as mediocrity. In blindness, I've stared at the sky, praying for signs and prophecies, searching for wonders. Each time I am surprised by your smile in a sunflower or your voice in the whispering wind. I am amazed by my own ignorance in confining you to works of might and power, forgetting your presence in the ordinary. In my fruitless search for pillars of cloud and fire, I find your sovereignty in a blueberry muffin.

Little flower, what makes your petals fall? Was it too much rain? Did you drown? Is there no sunshine at all? Little flower, you've grown so tall, Your color's so bright. Do you not see this? Have you water-logged eyes? Have you planted your feet in some deep dark pool? No gentle hand to save you from the strangling weeds? If you can't see, let me paint the picture; You are beautiful. If you can't hear, let me tell you; Life is magical. If you can't feel, let me show you; You are wonderful, life is mystical, don't be afraid to live. Little flower, I may not have the greenest thumb, I may not have the strongest, most gentle hand

These are your butterfly bruises like ink blots can look like ships and sail off a flat map of a flat world. does it hurt? Those broken vessels, with tight joints and stiff necks and eyes dragging razors across your skin. It's how they look through your curtains; replacing eyes with ink blots which become the window to your soul.

We are left hollow, Searching for meaning. Our task is empty. Can something so small Hold weight beyond its measure Or does it need to? Bound up in genre Held fast by old traditions Can you call this art? Snowflakes on lashes Pure white beauty on your own Locks my eyes to yours. Become so engrossed By self indulgent ideas Freedom found in ink.

I want to write stories So that you can live forever. If I could write for all of my life To keep you and me together, I would. If I could write Each detail of our lives Each teardrop and each smile Then this would never have to end. Then we could pretend When we're cold in our graves That we are still dancing. If I could immortalise you in words, Beat out your pulse in verse And keep your voice alive with each syllable, Then I could die happy. With my last breath on your spine And you safe between my covers.

  There are people who know why the world revolves    why monkeys and fossils evolve  why the Catskills continue to erode and devolve why cartilage and bones corrode and dissolve         this could be why we dream.  When earthquakes and volcanoes break out and layer up    and cover our eyes with a cloth of dust   like a frosty morning makes a field look like a tiled floor.  When dreaming breaks our souls into pieces instead    of puzzling our consciousness together   like fighting fire is a job as well as revenge.  When lakes begin to look more like graveyards    and emotions begin to feel trapped inside skin   it's what wha

The lapping of the waves is Haunting now. And the crying of the gulls Just taunts me now. Each swell and lull On this great ocean Used to be such a comforting Motion but now I grow weary. Familiar sunsets grow eerie, And the waters which I knew so well Can do so little To quell my rising terror. I fear mutiny. I have heard the whispers, Seen the murderous looks From the band of sorry crooks I thought my family. Perhaps I grow too old, Too tired. Where I once inspired courage I now stand, A windbeaten, heartbroken Soft spoken man. For I have seen too many sights, Spent too many nights Alone on the deck With nothing

to fall in love with you is to bend the rules of my heart (spirit) to break a code of tradition shocking no? to blow one's brains out is the one and only way to stop these bittersweet feelings (emotions)

Swimming in seas of ceramic. Lips kiss shattered glass and Our broken hearts and Our battered past Slip away. Drowning in tiled seas Whispered pleas Tumble from these lips. Begging to be set free But help close By ghosts and memory. Your blade embrace Your fading face Trembling fingers Struggle to escape Fight for release, Clawing for peace. Being torn in two, Born in to A new existence, Sorting through A haze of summer days And night-long fights And in the fading light, I'm reminded why I need to be alive.