Panning of the Vein
For a time we all must go away,
like orphaned memories
whose only wish is to remain...
like wind chimes in a hurricane
we lose the scent
of song
of self
of flesh
seeking to find what we think
we want and wish for-
For a time we must all go our way,
running swift to glean the chain
to stroll from happy-saited-just to suckle pain:
lone lemming on the slippery edge,
for a time we all must go away-
Making trails like Saturn's rings
crossing minds with death's clear intent,
the opaque of pleasant things,
(brittle creatures in metal galaxies)
seeking what's inside our veins...
For a while, despite the truth of denial
like sandcastles in a driven rain
piece by piece or whole grain,
we all must go away.
but
we'll come back full(bloated) circle
after a thorough
panning of the vein
when the path back home
sings like a golden finch,
post-warm-hearted rain...
for a time, we all must go our way-
for Tracie and Linda
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