(a)diaphane

I'd love to have the whole place swimming in roses

[cowboybyron]

d. I dream my death and whisper a prayer without a tongue. Look, myself! Undo this old mold: dizzy laconic spell,  ensnared alphabets and the echo of nightmares. I wear a painted mask and wave white flags at the sky. Colours all muted, they are in mourning; tomorrow a promise, but never a rose so dull. 

[cowboybyron]

In the last light of dawn  The red ecstasies in death appear as streams of ribbon  the touch of Venus, and all of the dying symbols  of painted love are scattered  in the Caspian sea and mauveblue sky!

[cowboybyron]

June  Dearest rosary of the damned, at last inspired by the mad architects of dream I carve my initials into the old eucalyptus tree near the window, bleeding more blue than black before constellations  unrequited: the beautiful ?

My eternal captor hides behind  a psychosurgeon’s pink veil— sink! sink! sink behind the horizon. . . unfurled melody, marvelous and musical, a deep drawn moving breath living there.

[cowboybyron]

Non canimus surdis, respondent omnia silvae

Sickened by how lonely and laconic a beryllium blue gravestone the heart is I count the molted wings of night with deathly purpose.  There is no starlight orchestrating patience  where once balanced on a rosy balustrade the stained shade of a dulcet kiss, arrested, placed upon the corroding nail of a wetted coffin.  Non canimus surdis, respondent omnia silvae!

[cowboybyron]

1 [Enter]: The Aeronautical Tapestry of Spring. Love in the mist! Lilies of the Nile!  Folded creases of red drapery 

gathered on the livingroom floor by        the Stillness of    a Dancer’s      Corporeal           Grace.  

Unfettered particles billow and crest in a flowery lea of golden sunlight, 

and the dust that fell collected on the dark  of a mahogany piano like a bed of ash.

My heart awash with the sadness of my father’s song.

[cowboybyron]

a. Iridescent her Antarctica-blue eyes reflect all radiance of Aldebaran in chromatic aberration on the darkened orbicular of a waning crescent moon in predawn occultation: white opal, green erinite, silver pearl, blue sapphire, pink fuchsia, silver idiocolide before red carnelian. The lofty wingtip of this albicant meridian moonarc pointed, acclivitous, toward the amatory star of autumn. A secret cause swims beyond the shattered distances of light between, semblant of Michelangelo’s ceiling painting in the Sistine Chapel of the Vatican: the anatomically obstructive finger of God wasting away while reaching for, but never touching, the limp, inefficacious hand of Adam.  (all have grown tired)

[cowboybyron]

Two and a half minutes of desultory writing: Listening to the piano sonatas of Alexander Scriabin in f-sharp minor (violet and light blue) Thinking most men        (do I think. . . ? Wear the ugly dress of masculinity (sorrowful wife shifting the furniture around), impervious, callous— A war is waged on the sexes. In a dusty volume of Yeats is the epigraph “In dreams begin responsibilities.” Trust me with a noose and i’ll hang myself,  But not until after I’ve slaved over ecstasy or doom.  In the wake of my descent I dream of glass, marble, spit and ash, Ecclesiastical error, etcetera. 

[cowboybyron]

On the topic of an exquisitely threaded denim skirt  Now i am bending as magnolias bend under the (dark) funeral-blue sky of February,

the red-nailed hands of an angel  reaching for my arm and cheek.

I, amphetamine-oppressed, eyes empty but moved,  overlook my own sadness and become the loving voyeur

of an invisible thread in your denim skirt.

Appearing more and more delicate to me as the pass of time is silent,  wanting to pull your hair, be anything but tender, reveal myself   monstrous. . .  hideous and cruel.  Eventually I call you “sweetheart.” And then a kiss that means everything and nothing.

[cowboybyron]

Sometimes i am 

A decayed house,

Plain windowsill patchy and peels                                       with sleep

Moratorium of rot divided by Whispers among fractured glass, 

Vacant halls of memory silent for another year: Time folded away.    

[cowboybyron]

Colossal intimacies of dark Woke to the sound of rain, (pitch dark) unfamiliar window, stillness:  thin air traversed the wall  and slid off into nothing again.  (no sound) Motionless: dead man’s   pale eyelids,  a shapely mouth.  I leaned over —mind recoiling— something else affected me profoundly without tears.

[cowboybyron]

Silent intimacies  Heavy and thoughtful, twice possessed craft   warmer than my body at needle point.   A thousand years of memory italicized zap! Still-born, drawn on smoke without Zodiac waiting, year after year— delicately wound, empty breath balanced there. (phone off) Half words unsaid; a rosy crucifixion.

[cowboybyron]

April 26th, A Saturday  Apoplectic, statuary. A bloodless mould of marble stares back,  but it is someone else's hands placed vertically  against my closed eyelids and skull. Palms pressed (seeing nothing): obsidian backrooms.

[cowboybyron]

wither withr witr wir wr w i

[cowboybyron]

Fade I felt two hands burry me  in a release of splendor,  A delicacy lingered lightly; nothing mattered. All ephemeral, All fading to nothing. Basta! 

[cowboybyron]

A thunderclap in the Roman air  Unbroken memory to enlarge her prayer, calm and iridescent  it holds her like a heaven, And she lies there, invariably lovely: Ankles brushing elegiac against blue and lavender delphinium,  Spring unending. Her harmony all adorned by soft insteps  on an alluvial sunset-fire. 

[cowboybyron]

76 hours  I just want to sleep I just want to sleep I just want to sleep I just want to sleep I just want to s I just want to sleep I just want to s I just want to l I just want to sleep  I just want to l I just want to e I just want to s  I just want to e I just want to e I just want to l I just want to e I just want to p I just want to e I just want to p I just want t I just want to e  I just want t I just want o I just want to p I just want o I just w I just want t I want w I just a I just o I just a I just n I just w I just n I just t I just a I just t I j      j            u     u            s     s            t      t tt [tt] wan t I just want to s I just want to sl I just want to sle I just want to slee                                       [e] I just want to sleep                    [a                       w               ak peels ot tnaw tsuj I I just want to sleep                      [peels]  [sleep]                       [peels]                [sleep] I just want to sleep.

[cowboybyron]

Red pieces of day Hearing the echo        go     d o        w                             n into              calm and still dawns went my youth,   mind          f  e         l                  l silent        as I watched  red pieces of day, turn black— hearing the echo        go     d o        w                             n [.]