The wind calls from the corners of the house,
Carrying dreams to distant hills,
In sleep, I sensed the owl
And heard the tall trees
talking in the dark.
When we were younger,
We caught the early bus
To small towns
And at the end,
We slow danced with the echoes:
Last songs in school halls.
When I was young, sometimes
we rode the trains overnight
to new houses,
riding a rough disjointed shaft,
rumbling deep into the night.
And in the spaces:
like strange vessels seen from a distance
sailing some dark and blackened ocean.
Dirty yellow stations,
words behind the shuttered windows
asleep in rough blankets
am carried across the shores of memory
toward the vast and orange expanse
We watched you sleep,
The hand of God outstretched,
But in the end,
The sin and shame of your decay
was never yours to hold.
And when the Angel came,
You turned your face to the wall
And you left.
I saw the clouds run like water,
Like a river, thick and fast, felt
The wind pull the currents, tugging
At the edges and twisting eddies
Across the sky.
The dream held,
At least for a while,
Then was lost in the swirling traffic,
Miles above the freeway.
“The voices in my head are shadows, shadows
She comes to me, to tell me what they’re after
Says it ain’t the end boy but you best be careful, careful
Might catch your tail end in a circle, circle”
- With thanks to Edward Sharp and the Magnetic Zeros (Child)