Stars N Islands

Stars and Islands

I am walking in the morning. The wind moves against the back of my
Neck. I am a habitat, I am moving-I think of all the animals of the world.
Tomorrow is like it is in the morning-and the night is sweet with its song,
Always moving, always in mourning. I don’t have enough money to get what I want to
Get, new clothes, or going on a trip to Ireland.

The airplane flies through the air;
And lands on a runway.
Night is calm, and burdened are we-
I see your face in my dreams.

Finches are on the island where Michaelangelo once lived, moving like shadows
In the dark. Stars come out to play. It is night, and the stars shine down.
It is darkness, and we are in the darkness, and we are like shadows in the dark.
That is glowing.

I want to go on a trip to see my friend. I want to see his silhouette marching down
The dark street, eyes like sparklers, moving in the dark.
The streets are lined with both darkness and sorrow; the street lights are lit with bright stars.

The Cancer is the Moonlight.

Moonlight

I walked in moonlight,
Holding the check tightly in the palm of my
Hand.
Holding the check in front of me like a shield.

His best friend has cancer.
The doctor says it is a disease.
The words aren’t the ones people want
To hear.

He was not depressed,
He told himself.
He was not depressed.

He played checkers
In
His den,
Then moved to the attic.

Light spilled in through the window onto the
Floor.
The floor was polished.
Glittered until it shone.

He was not depressed about anything.
He was not depressed about the way the
Light shone, stiller than the moon at night,
Stiller than the cold and the dark and
The attics waking in walls.

The cold is in his bones.
The cold drifts through him.
He is shadowed at the heart of it all,
Shadowed at the heart that drifts and
Fades and the feathers come falling

Down, down-
Down into the nothingness that
Is everything.
Into the nothingness that is new.
Newer than what we believe is to be seen.

In the dusk of anything,
We strive for Alaskan wilderness-
We strive for the wind that moans,
And hearts beat at glass doors.
We open them and shut them,
Again and again,
Whispering words your mother can’t
Understand.
We speak languages.