Into Midnight

When the dust has all but settled

And the clock grinds

Slivers of hands long from sun

Strolling

Like lazy afternoon flowers in mid-grin

Slowing me uncomfortably

Into a midnight string of roads

Plucked and tangled in the nude frightening city

No one sees what has happened here

No one hears in wreckage

Cacophony's confusion  

A carving of bodies 

In the black hills 

We rose bone-colored 

A curse of paradise stirred

Ours a cube in a warm dream broth

When the dust and folly

And the last of the Wendigo  

Has us all.

Reviews

[Priscilla Sayers]

As always I have my breath stolen by the swift flight of my Precious Hawk.

[Jane Taylor Hardy]

It is a rare artist that captures such subtlety interlaced with philosophy as demonstrated in this magical pen.

[Perdition]

Just when I was about to quit too..jk., A beautiful review and seriously your story is quite amazing and inspiring so thank you from all that sparkles as pours in constance of our great feast of fountain. Namaste~