v1 Red raw we are born, into bright lights we are blown. Of all the things I have seen you are the brightest I have known And in the heavy rain I will come back to you again Dreams of yesterday will burn tomorrow
C. Secure in all that is pure on your wings. This freedom breaks me ‘fore I even sing, that there is nothing but this is more
v2 Stopped and to breathe, these fleeting memories. ...
Just as a pin on the map. I pick you up, unkissed; shy sunrising rock. I pick you up. The break-in on the abandoned school; the drunken invasion of an archeological site I picked you up. Aegean, pleiadian care-worker; indelible.
I whisper'd up to drown it out, the lisping cuss of a dragonfly and his ornery bluff.
Last seen, the Machiavelli was gathering before the hawthorn, reaching through for their hips and haws of Maastricht wine.
And with a sketch and a thought as scrawny red as the dawn I lipped, divined and withdrew from these bloodied wrists my understudy, my young reserve who was once so clear in intention and consequences ...