Visitor: Syd's Song

flower-bubble ash-
tray gather secrets
messages from burning visions

to come

deciphering night’s
long, shotgun style, box-tunnel
starting here
at my table
peering out over
wandering jews . . . wandering

searching for the moon: light-junkies

waiting.........for............ the........... Sun


and black-eyed suzies with dried, curled
yellow petals stiff with their lifelessness
and, at the other end of this box-shaped
vortex, traveling out my windows: turquoise

jewel of infinity gleams
redirecting
refracting light
from a thousand points

while silence awaits . . . any sound

but not one echoes
throughout this chamber
no whipping white cloths
to cover the doorways to hide
what lies beyond each threshold


While the hum of a nearby machine
and the ticking of a clock
were the only indicators

that somewhere
at some point
there must have been- life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I debated with myself over the addition to the title. It was my first intention to dedicate to the man, but I didn't necessarily write it with him in mind, but only with his state of mind.