The Death [and the longing]

..............................


when once blue skies lingered over the bay where war ships lay prone silent still no whispers wait pregnant in their bows the sailors sleep soundly in the gentl breeze {drifting in from subtle seas} and on their finger tips bring dreams of fantastic unity and each is foolish and happily unsaid those fears those regrets not here not yet "on some foreign shores let them rest"





-and for just now sing-



simple melodies and think never so long of the final song rumbling slow deep on distant horizon on some other page yet crave so sweetly that unhappy dirge as well you know this tonal love:



a single pipe and just one drum



beats a simple score



[a theme familiar]

that begs the orchestra to join in harmonic praise for well [too well] we know these clouds>>>>



Help me now erect this pole and capture the storms

how i miss them so... ... ...





[and so together we dug the foundation and grasped the high metal pole and set firm in silver sands a beacon of our despair]





the ferrel clouds errant above the oceans glistening field have but one thought in mind at any given time and from over the edge of the earths unforgiving rocky fascade


where rivers end



where seas fall



::where ocean drifts to eternity::





these black clouds wrench up their tired husks and fought the falling torrent and now launch into the sky
               {the angel's tragic home}

hungry

...

The Twin's Reunion

take to your comfy seat again and know you have no options left but to smile laugh clap and scream at the empty stage [enter ghosts left]

the pin rests heavy at some intersection where this line crosses that and its great arch passes over nimble tides and scratches curved lines on colored sheets fingers crossed it mumbles to itself as it draws this new line far far and further still from womb and onwards still and no rest fortune favors only the wretch and muses in their jellous dance think our scribbles inane and useless hearts chained //rattle rattle// in a length unknown lost long ago their wanton desires lost long ago their free empires their crowns their sceptres their fame and traded in for empty bowls eat well fools eat well for your roles demand reprise.

>>is there supposed to be some beauty here in perfect circles or lesser lines playing completed degrees for i fail to see what glory shines from that going nowhere coming back going forth coming back<<

and of no concern and of no return and yet pick up this pen as though thrown in anger and continue this broken prose it matters to non who writes theses lines it matters less who reads and who dictates sermon or prayer and how well the audience hear at the back they sleep at the sides they love at the front they long to play and rush forth from out the stands taking to the stage and plays this man a frightened king and plays this fool a happy clown and plays these friends the chorus dance

}we purchased a script before we came as we felt certain we'd have this chance to show our lovely teeth and watch closely as we lift our skirts{

::its clear this line made promises to itself that it would wander wherever it would and in some strange way it kept this promise but it appears it was never to itself for it finds that whilst it dallied and traced new curves and escaped that awful spin its anchor weighed too heavy its centre itself the pin::

and the audience reliquish the stage and the twins resume their role and from the skies the backdrop falls and the ovation raised from within and this the monologue and then the reply and this the duologue then

.you.is.the.same.as.i.

echo and narcissus

and thats really all there is to it she replied as he whittled the last of his wax into a thimble and

barely audiable uttered the same reply in response and this did not calm the nerves of the twins

as they slowly raised their heads to see eachother and themselves and they screamed instantly

in the same voice youre more than enough and i have you here and you have me there and we

cried as we watched the scene as it made us angry to know that these models of existence could

never be more than a dream on the scaled lips of bitter angels rattling off story after story just

for something to do as they wait for some excuse from the bottom from the top and then say

again once upon a time and then eventually it appeared the ears turned inwards and no longer

we waited our minds comfy and blank and empty and begging and we all at once said enough we

know the story and we know how it ends and now you sit and patiently listen as i rattle off this

awful trite over and over and over told story of one and then another and a place to go and a

place to leave or something sadder or faster and when you have listened to this story over and

over you will perhaps after some eons drip through the cloth know that you want to hear no

more of these fantasies and the angel cuts us off and now changed appears to us something

unchanging.

• the angel's retort.
• the audiences' realization.
• the twins' reunion.
• the death.
• the abandonment.
• the eternal.