Thursday, January 22, 2009

more alone than now

Crows On The Snow, A Raven On My Shoulder

with all the bars in the world
lighting neon signs inside my head
sparking the electrical discharge of memories
and the impulse to be alone like some lost limb

just walk on
just walk on

crows on the snow, a raven on my shoulder
singing songs to one another on either side of this window,
happy to be because they know better
and i believe it when a little voice says,
you never needed anyone

questions left unanswered
along with phone calls from abandoned cities
placed to this wilderness i fashioned
from a memory of snow falling in may
and the smolder of wood smoke on the wind

the last call comes again and again
in au revoirs i said but never meant,
i know now there's no way to ever know
if even one dull lover, one frail friend waited in vain
for even one moment of many building monuments to forever
after i slipped behind the shadow of foggy recollections
and a half smile hanging in the grey light of air
without wings and suddenly aware, falling at their unwashed feet

just jesus wept
just jesus wept

and i left without one tear shed,
pulled by magnets and the moon
so far around the bend, hidden
from the maddening crowd
from those i loathed, loved, fucked, fought

(god knows i couldn't have gone another round)

north toward circles where no one revolves,
sitting perfectly still somewhere in the middle distance,
poles pulling at this life from opposite ends of the earth,
at polar opposites supine and wrapped around my spine
defining me, myself and i watch with quiet detachment
the id and ego locked in a thousand yard stare,
animal brain pacing back and forth between
wanting only shelter from the tempest building
on a horizon broken by sooty pine stabs toward sky

to build a fire with to build a fire
and the books that read me like a book,
filling the library stack spaces of a mind out of time,
the literature of 5000 years ticking away in minutes
as i ponder the the bottom of maslow's pyramid

just a need
just a need

palms turned toward flame, a primitive again,
my voice in this gentle hour like some dumb tongue
speaking in tongues,
stein, rand, woolf rapping at my branch door,
unafraid, my feminine side held close by two strong arms,
my only companion, my only company

just hold on
just hold on

alone at last and dying for a drink, a smoke, a light, a love,
all on loan in a black city without buildings to block the stars'
shine upon this midnight dig, manic to bury who you knew
and make myself again from the mud that the rain
before me buried in the dirt beneath my knees,
praying for the strength to stand on my own,
listening for my maker's voice but hearing only
a thundering chorus of voices vaguely familiar,

just stand tall
just stand tall

upon this earth, all lit up and filled with laughter,
and search the dusk, the night, the dark,
the forest for the trees and climb to see myself
digging a hole straight through this globe spinning

around the bend,
seemingly slowly though so soon out of sight,
leaving only the sound of glasses raising, voices fading,
crows feet around my eyes left looking
for black wings already lifted from snow,
the shiver-chill-shudder of their absence
creeping shoulders left bare without their raven

alone at last and lost
somewhere between here and there
too far gone to begin again
too far gone to stop the end
so decide for this one moment

just slow down
just slow down

and pour from a bottle of memories
to toast the neon ghosts i've left forever
haunting, illuminating a person only the past could recognize

here's to you and to whomever i once was,
though dark was the night
beneath that lit glow, in a bar
full of other voices, other rooms
more alone than now

just with me
just with me

and crows on the snow,
a raven on my shoulder

No comments: