Inside

From here.
A couple of steps into the cemetery
and the mundane mud of the moon
Smears
The bats.
There were four or five last night.
Adjusting their first flight
With the sound but not the light

Three more fences to mount
Three more stars to count

From here,
the rum-rattled battles
of the calm window-tamed winds,
the ill-famed sunflower
and the inflamed gunpower….
And thus,
They write of us

Circling all around
Death-bound

Flame, flame, what’s your name?
Name, name, what’s your shame?
Shame, shame, what’s your game?

Hell, too much water in the system
Water has eyebrows it can’t raise
Is your sister Modesty Blaise?

And there,
with a lopsided view of time, space
and other jaded dimensions in between -
Three hundred birds took their light from your eyes
And you, blind,
Trying to read these words,
Oblivious to the facts of oblivion