Syntax

Words. They rattle my soul this mourning, This slim redemptive moment held with in the hands Of the clock – that lesser god who rankles low the The vibration of the street; the movement Of the sheets entwined around my ankles; I sense the morning brew, Seraphim dance around my nostrils; My eyelids, screens of twin rainbow dreams, The fluid of last night’s dreams has slowed To level out my desire, for now. God has banished all illusion, All sin. All schemes – this moment, Oh, brother how I breathe, It stills my swirling soul’s articulation, Words, Syntax, Clarity… They can each have this day, They billet back moments true and bright and Vivid – Their sense of placement drives a nail deep Within my awareness…