I remember my own insanities…

I remember my own insanities…

Oh, what presence attends our emptiness … this…?
I’ve dived down drowning with these daylight thieves
Falling deeper and deeper in their stone dead sleep, in this…
Angel enclave: We dug all for our lost fairy souls.
Like ghost listening to anchored ship wind chimes.

Oh the lightening bugs laugh with our love above the mountain heather
As we run with our jam jars downstream forever.
0h, I feel like a fly in the corner of some thoughtful lost feeling
The feeling of lungs fragility, the fragility of flying sails, or not...

Oh, I remember days and the years in bedsits, just sleeping, hoping each day never—began.
Oh, I feel hunger and loneliness and anger; always tugging within me.
And neighbors that I wished, would vacate, go astray like a dog chasing a bitch.
Oh, I’d wish them all hit by a car and left in a graveyard ditch
With beating wings that just twitched forth and back.

Oh, I remember cold November days, till the dawn uncoiled lifted up its anchor
Like a unicorns horn in mid mild March through the red neon light and neon-blue air.
Shivering like a bird like a skylark flying in frantic circles still as a sphinx
Oh, and the hoofs of the rash that do all their curtsies in the shadows in candy waves.

Oh, I remember rotten friendships that started out so promising
I remember the anointed yellow amber grease left there…?
By the flies trapped beating wings, closing spread on the window pane.
Oh, I remember the moon-milk-white mosses growing on the kitchen walls.
Oh, and my pale bones each day barely echoed, put food in me.

Heart I don’t want anyone; I don’t belong in this ageless atrium.
In this angel’s enclave, living on cornbread and sleep again…
Oh, I remember my own insanities, feeling saintly, sinking, vainly
Full of lady bird’s winter shelved grief. I’ve dived down drowning
With ever breaths intake crushed like a cockroach.
Oh, I’ve dived down drowning with these daylight thieves…
And crawled on my knees and it was all anchored in wind chimes
Hanging on a wave; hanging on a note of the fortuneteller’s harp.

In that harbor of honey wine and bread in that angel enclave we dug
For our entire lost fairy wisps our ships bell drowning soul’s laughter.

Oh, I remember cold November days, till the dawn uncoiled lifted up its anchor
Like a unicorns horn in mid mild March through the red neon light and neon-blue air.
Shivering like a bird like a skylark flying in frantic circles still as a sphinx
Oh, and the hoofs of the rash that do all their curtsies in the shadows in candy waves.

Till we danced and the angels united and we kissed by the fires that hissed.