Horizons stretch just far enough
to keep receding
as each step my sore feet take
will lead into the next.

I'm building bridges here
with butterfly wings
and jaded sounds of whitenoise
weaving over chasms.

The walls were built too thin to start.
I'm naked here
with crimson dressings
stainglass iron shoes
that serve to bind me to the floor.

You'd like to see another face in mine
or maybe not
perhaps it's all my eyes
perceiving make believe despise
in paper masks that hide
all but the irises away

(Create a fairy tale in mischeif never done
and battles never won-
songs that ring of truth when sang
on deadened ears of shining gold)...

I wish to god sometimes
I'd never stepped before the sight
of air-borne weightless insect in the limelight.

04/15/2004

Posted on 04/15/2004
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