nite dreams

We used to laugh so long and hard

that come morning our voices bled from the poison of time

but like a flower devoured slowly by wet concrete

our smiles could fool no one

He is surrounded by an ocean of velvet smoke and corduroy ghosts

Where poetry is sacred and time slows down to become art

When wild sons listen to soft voices like magic lingering in the dark

If sad eyes are a window to a clouded soul, then broken glass is like dazzling stars in the night sky

Remember, you are not a prisoner of longing, but a child of the universe

with bleeding lips he breathed the ghost of a smile

but this ferocious fever born in the soft dark had broken his trust

like colored glass in a vast porcelain fire

His voice could never sail away with the stars, where breath was so wet with salt and smoke.

Though the boy is like a breeze in sacred night.

The father, a prisoner of a blazing sky.