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Date Posted: 03:22:07 11/26/02 Tue
Author: AGS
Author Host/IP: dialup-65.58.187.227.Dial1.Stamford1.Level3.net / 65.58.187.227
Subject: The Closet

A bugle
is so shrill
above the night watches
the gentle haze
that meanders
for his place
of rest

With grasses straining
as they catch
light
of the night;

It casts,
its shadows
elsewhere.

You stood there
beneath the high
elk tree,
so mighty,
it loomed -
breathed to
the forest of the skies

There
as told
by the ribbons

Of twilight

That weaves
spins
it elaborate songs

too twisted
to the mortal ear

The divine sayings
that hush
our speech
preach the sermons
that go on
for miles in subtle
searches down splendid
canyons

I see
when I allow myself

Hear the twinkling
memories;
they haunt
knock upon the door
clay and tall
of the tablets front
your heart

That hold those
buzz word messages
you've about time
figured out,

passing your own
private judgment on
in this life
or another
that breezes your mind

Offers sanctity
always
to the recluse
in you

Says
no more
time
again
and again
to be so subtle
in tolerances

The divine halls you walk
to the hanging galley
you dream of
every night

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