Your eyes grow their knives into yesterday
to slash the hug, the webs that closed us up
in the blissful coop of our time of ostriches
But you know that what went before cannot be undone
by either the violence of mind or the fission of matter
The other life, the lived, will always be there
with numinous threads as resilient as the earth itself
If escape were possible what would happen now
to the wounds that life needs for truths to grow

Certainly, we need the hold of the sacred between us
to stay the mind against the bile that profanes
with awkward regrets, escoriating the bloom
of memories that still have power to beggar mischief
Thankfully, it is not the broken melody alone that crackles
in the gutted grooves of the moments we owned
Remember, there was a lyrical warmth beyond scarring winds
there was the joy of rain in the happiness of the sun
Remember, while your eyes throw flying knives into yesterday

Though through your tears you cannot see my crown of thorns
Let the clouds pass, and soon enough, as my cup brims
with the pain of long shadows chastening your image
when the dust-haze of rude promises have passed away
leaving a gentle sanity unspoilt by guilt or hatred
you will see why to defend the treasured future
to correct the poisoned tense in my dreams
I became your arsonist, homicide and fiend
the bull in the supermarket thrashing about for the door