Release

The Skyline looked beautiful on fire
And God calls it a fever
And the saddest wind I ever felt
I felt it blow
Down the American river
Over the steamboats dragging gamblers by the eyebrows
Through the arguments that tied the children down
Mothers clutching babies
Lovers looking once into each others eyes
Dreamers woke in this river
For nigh is the shadows in the shallows
In the valley of death
The Towers bowed to the sky
The Bridges dove desolately into rivers
No one left out
The American River Wind has struck again
Divesting infants of eyes to see and dreams

Where are the feasts that we where promised

Whispers of cotton conversation
And the platonic conversationalists gathered around
Sowing seeds of confusion
Letting Piety out for a stroll for piety’s staked sake
I think I smell a rat

Release
Who will be our Sisyphus
Riding through the magnificent arrows of ambient dark suppression, of wicked ambiguous oppression
Forging black winter hope from the scholars of linoleum and post modern blamelessness
Release
My forgiven path
Mandela springs in my roots and hairs and scabs
Release
Worthless thoughts and thoughtless worth
Patterned approved fallen brick lights surround the broke mans jacket in the cold
False prophetic attempts of perfection hook me
Release
Im seeding a forest in my mind of Tillich elms and hopeful Blake Tragedies
And its rooting

At First Flash of Eden
We will look at each other
And see each other for the first time
We shall run from our lunar wombs
From our combat tombs
Emerge dripping from the sea
To settle in a cottage
Deep within the western night