CatSpringer

The last bandage removed from the wounds of malice; the last curse levied at a heart like a heart, a mind like a mind; the chamber emptied for all time to our profound relief and our final posterity. I do not know how we did it, and yet it came to be done; I don't know from where it came, but we found it in us just the same. This gun was laid down, and never damned our hand again. The chamber emptied, not through angry combustion, but through our collective will. This day, evermore, we can start our mornings, as our brother, as our sister, forward, and let humanity breathe, at last, as one. And it started, so very, very long ago, beyond all m

Pine wind's victory, motorcycle flight, suds on your hands Your first breath of morning, regardless of the night before Pages turned, cigarettes burned out, what you see on the ceiling When the white fires come, a life you dance to The youth looking upon youth, mine to yours, from a peaceful cell And all the things I cannot know from shuttered, European, eyes One wild-ish movement, drunken, a weaving of arms I would own but one memory of yours, the thrill of day The sudden laughter, my Andrea's unsheltered satisfaction If I could, the thief, the very thief of your experience But one hour -- one song-released hour -- you'll never know again Be

And when the blue envelope of her breath Opened, free, of conscious thought Her words became the hue of caramel novas I become two persons, one, of the moment, gone And the second imprinted in dream So the film strip of 'almost' tells me How high her ghost hand reaches Beyond earth limits of creaking trees And empty night streets that darken to its ends She never could dance for shit But her movements are so free, free Though her body was never for me And yet Her cap pulled down one eye, midnight wise The last days, the blue kimono night Of pale robed arms lifting in greeting, a holy heat Drifting past my limited vision A cloud dark fac

Can eyes larger be And yet be shuttered Against all comers, all pain? Can dreams of angels Fuse her skin into air & fire And light the night into shame? She is the princess Of a lost time, an age Where simple longings sigh. And her dreams belong to me. Back into her bed she falls Pulling decades with her Into full-breasted song. And with my words I sing To find her heart Like twisted strings A ghost of time A hope of love A shifting of sand A roar of hope A shine of eyes And her dreams belong to me.

Her chiffon whispered my name with each turn Of her patterned, dark rose stockings and kneeling, I look upward to the lace lightning that twines my fingers and my hands cease to be I must not look up beyond my phantom hands for she thunders, goddess-eyed, into my youthening There is no bearing this, there is no easy escape There is only the laced waves closing over my head The chiffon rising, rising, rising, rising And I, for the last time, rise too

Would your eyes make shimmer in my night Glistening with hidden hopes, hiding little I would rise upward into your honied skies And name the night, beyond all dark, after you.

Redeem me, Oh Muses. All I have that are my own are my Words, and even these are given me by you. So praises to you, praises! If my stories do not benefit or amuse Man nor Woman, it does not matter; so long as they please you, for I came from you, and to you I will one day return. My Tale. Once Upon a Time, as all good stories begin: There was a man who dreamed of wings. He was sleeping, all but naked, under the sweltering summer night skies. His sleeping was fitful because he was a hero, although he would not have thought himself so. He pushed himself up sluggishly from the open fire escape landing where he slept, because in his muddled min

I thought That when you were gone Finally That I could write no more The dreams would fall As dusty rain. But I was wrong The drops themselves Are now become flame The words have never had More power And now I write To the sky Itself.