Horizonbird

What if you saw something nice, instead? One day, instead of broken mirrors and nasty little things that go bump in the night you saw something nice? Perhaps a fairy, of the tinkerbell variety (Only, for you, a man-fairy.  They have those, I imagine.  Maybe he's called Tonkerbell. Like a tiny male ballerina.) who would flutter about the garden, drinking nectar out of the lavendars and grabbing leaves with both hands and shaking the dew off to play with them in the sun. He's so small, he holds the dewdrop with both hands and he'll sigh as the sunlight inside it lights up his tiny little world in every colour like a much smaller, but infinitely

The soul, the Heart of the Mind has an anatomy of fleshy abstractions and calcified emotion, muscles of notion and an expression on its face… I allowed an essence of youness to become embedded in my soul’s bones I try to push you out but stagger as I weaken You pushed me out the first night – you’re stronger than you know. (though fragile, for the foe you fight is mighty) but the next morning I awake with a weight that fades away as the day rolls by lightens, and dies by midnight but seeps back in trickling creaks through cracks in my dreams as I sleep. We lean together, I hope, like a cherry-picker trellis, stan

And for a time, as I sat weeping, broken, broken too were my sepia shackles; my mask of bright sand was cracked by tear tracks and washed into the concrete. I see them growing back now glistening organically: the shackles of those who gave me everything I have, the carnival mask laughs grotesquely that I’m free. Only amongst a crowd at ease can I see that I am not.  So I break my mask and shackles by breaking me. And for a time, as I sat sobbing, I was me and nearly free.

In your eye beads a pearl of mercury and spins it whirls down your pink cheek into my hand rolls around leaves no trace but sadness as shallow ripples through my throat. But in my hand a funny-shaped me is laughing at us, he catches the rest once they wobble down your cheek. And he laughs. I drop the bead, And we embrace. I step on the pearl. And I laugh.

Atop a mountain, all my own I stepped the wildflower summer slope It was all mine; I was alone My blooms, my snow, all I could hope. Across the valley then I saw Centuries' ice, vast and slow An ancient glacier held my awe Against my mountain's peaceful glow The beauty all around was dying I drank my mountain's crystal blood And as my giddy mind was flying my boots accumulated mud. I dreamt of what perhaps I'd feel to touch that ice and feel its power I think, now, that it was not real although I felt it in that hour.

The world swirled away below. Maybe we were seated on the steepest peak of some rough ridged rocky range. Maybe our sun was a low yellow glow. Would the specialness somehow increase were it so? It's more likely we sat atop scummy steps, iron-capped, cut with crosses for grip, hot like a stove in the high summer sun, but that way the scenery can't steal the show. We were the whole world for all that I know.

Do you live in the same world that I do? You've told me not to look into your brain And yet I can't but notice with some pain you seem to think that all look down on you. Whose titan shadow looms above your head which blocks the sparkle ere it lights your eye and in their rightful place makes smiles die and turns your rightful confidence to dread? I love you, but you have one trait I'd change: The joy you often show, but oft is furled would unrestrained lift you ever higher Now if I told you, would you find it strange to know that in my sight and in my world you dance upon aurora's tallest spire

The slow fine-falling-mist is a tactile sparkle on the back of my hand and sparkles, too, on my pea-coat, and sparkles, too, on the window. My companions said it was cold and it blinded them driving but I was comfortable And so I could just enjoy the sparkle.

I'll hand  it to the little bird the feathered fellow's got some balls to softly line its nest and lair with downy, spring-shed, black cat-hair.

I don't love you less Just differently now But sometimes I remember having hoped that you would love me differently.