Poems August 12-13

(OK so I'm almost from tall blonde Montana boy, but not quite yet.)

August 12th

It was a picture that dropped my heart through the floor to think of you,

not the flesh and blood presentation that fills the space and time.

It was the way you stared into some occult infinity,

cradling it in your eyes.

You know my love for you was always for another,

that some how you transmuted into your own spun gold,

a tall god of shining aura, that light that comes from the utter north,

curtains of green that shimmer between the leaden mortal lands,

and the bright realm we only imagine there is.

Now that light is fading, the way they say that pictures used to do,

but now they live on in twilight glow,

were I sit, hand on palm, elbow pillared to my desk,

staring at what never was, and what might have been.

But with a touch and click,

I close that chapter of my life,

a page is gone.

and like the last moment of the sun that is eclipsed by the towers,

of this my city,

my place,

it winks to darkness.

It is done, and gone, and ever more.

August 13th

Look up, and you are falling,

It stretches straight into vanish point eternity,

touches point the sky,

piercing, at least, the lunar sphere.

What great designs are made there,

what fields of ruin are sown,

what wheels of commerce are rusted shut there,

what lives are sent to debtor's toil.

Ah the edifice of emancipation,

defying the laws of gravity and man,

to give us this canal from sea to shining sea,

that conduit from laughter into tears,

from idle moments, into dry years.

These pillars the masts and sails,

of a vessel blown by winds of fortune,

sailing on a sea of risk.

It sails from this city, which was, once the capital of the world,

And it now still, only of an under world.

an ether world,

so aptly a never never land,

for this ship of dire straits that has sailed,

will never never land.