Sunsets

 
...

it does not matter
before sunset



everyone will die
sooner or later...

the ones you love
the ones you hate
those that don't matter

sooner or later
everyone will die




it does not matter
after sunset

...

 
the flower screaming
in the creases of the night
the afternoon screaming
your sunsets
its dawns and the
long night
leans out the window
and watch the procession pass
the night is still in the churchyard
loaded with wounds
the night falls from the eyes
of insomniacs and falls asleep
in the bed of all rivers
the night peers
the unfathomability.

The Kings and Queens  
announce their presence  
chasing away the days heat,  
colossal sandstone thrones  
tower over vast grass lands  
sparse with weathered trees,  
stretched out in darkening shades  
of light straw to stained beige.  

As the bright red brush stroke  
washes onto the horizon,  
returning birds give voice  
to the cooler air of nightfall.  
Ripe fruit and folded leaves  
pull on warm silhouette's  
while the sky hangs  
from their branches, dressed  
in fading gold ribbons.  
 
The night is clearing its throat,  
practicing lines that will reach  
beyond the curvature of the earth  
I follow the usherettes torch  
and take my seat beneath a billion stars,  
ready to watch the second performance.

It’s in the eyes
Where paradise lives and dies
Like April leaves arriving early in the spring
Wondering gently in the breeze
Caressing your skin in the most melodious way

And some clouds that are as white as snow
Turn to golden hues in picturesque sunsets
Breathed in breathless delightful thoughts
Adored and absorbed in absolute stunning views

They make you dream
The most beautiful images you can imagine
With welcoming smiles that lead to celestial bodies
In glorious scenes of distant horizons

And like that you’re embedded in my mind
When the sky paints a portrait it makes me think of you
That in the midst of grays and pastels
Purples and perplexing colors you’ve become
A lover and an artist with each dawn and dusk
In sunsets
And for that you will be forever etched in my heart

My wine glass catches a burnt sky
and pours lilac over pan fried sea bass,
couples clink and chat laughter
as the lonely ocean plays with silver.

A sturgeon moon scoops waves
high over the last strip of cooling sand,
as swaying beach front lights
splash colour onto dark returning tides.

Held hands remind me of charm bracelets,
unwrapped on the drift of distant music.
I smile looking down beyond your chair,
until the dry drips of an empty bottle
make me look up.

I drove out to the beach  
to watch the day  
enter;
to watch the day  
leave  
 
The air around me  
was still chilled,  
the world quiet  
save for the  
haunting sound  
of the ocean, alone.  
 
The sand crunched under my  
feet, and the dark sky
hinted that  
yesterday’s promise  
of tomorrow  
was fulfilled.  
 
I sat far enough from the  
tide line to get a wet butt  
but not close enough for  
the waves to touch my toes.  
 
The sky lightened  
and as gently as  
a released breath  
near a candle,  
the palette of  
new days  
seeped into the sky  
 
timid brush strokes  
at first,  
then bold magentas  
fading into burnt oranges  
and a strangely flaming blue  
as the sun poked  
its bald head  
over the horizon.  
 
And all at once it was a new day.  
 
All at once, the world was  
illuminated again,  
the shadows on my  
face were behind me  
and I squinted  
against
the same sky  
I'd watched with  
dilated eyes.
 
I stayed the day,  
to watch the sunset,  
to see if it closed  
with the same grandeur  
as it opened.  
 
Chills crept up the  
back of my neck  
like spindly fingers  
in a dark room
as dusk settled  
 
color seeped from  
the world slowly  
turning the waves  
into silver-tipped  
ghosts, that  
softly roared  
memories,  
and brought  
forth  
gray.  
 
The sun rose in the same spot,  
and brought hope,  
but I watched the sunset  
over the beach
from the east coast  
and my eyes  
searched  
the darkness  
for any  
sense of  
purpose.  
 
I watched the sunset  
over the beach
while facing east  
and found little  
waiting for me  
save  
the  
night.  

I shiver.
Hug myself.
Wonder where it all went wrong.

But not really.
We are transient souls
in a house made of smoke
And historically speaking,
the smoke is prone to be
fanned away

So when I saw the dark
clouds I fucking jumped
face first
uncaring if I hit the ground
and knocked out my teeth

because I’m not going to
have a moment of regret
when you roil in
existentialism

Not this time.

When you kiss the
side of my neck,
when your arm
braces my waist,
and the music starts
one
last
time

I will have fucking said it.
I will have fucking done it.
I will not let fear
do more than lick
my spine,
and I’m
going to fucking love
the thrill of it.

You’re fucking right.
I want to burn.
And you have that
old box of matches
in your pocket.

So I’m kissing you
open-eyed
as I bring your hands
back to my throat
and grind against
the pocket where you keep
the matches

until
you lift the tip of
one to the tip of my
soul

And the last dance
will end this time
as I lay you back,
lower myself
on your face
and stare up
at the night sky
enraged,
and on fire
without a fucking
ounce of remorse

When the sand here is perma-scorched;
a landmark to asshole poets
who say beautiful
shit about the sunset supernovas
that one time
that last time

I’ll smile for having witnessed it,
add my salt to the water
leave a bouquet of wilted daisies

and fan the smoke slowly
into my eyes

My best
friend told me
that both
he and his one true
love went to this one
tropical spot and
saw a
wonderful
sunset.