voices in thin air

‘gray owl breathing a sigh and an echo’ said little boy blue ‘stillness of stone and thorn my noiseless breath in the fallen rain – owl are you ghost spirit? am I?’

‘earthborn’ said sister sunlight ‘spinning deeper spells I learned to stray carelessly never look behind never look back – is freedom the way of a wildwood rose?’

‘in the forgetfulness of science’ said the bone-man ‘code signals melt into air thin air we observed skeletons as a holy text – has nothing remained of my dream?’

‘fallen branches of ragged birch’ said little boy blue ‘eyes of straw and incense a solitary reindeer stands in stillness and shadow – is this what solemn prayer looks like?’

‘following the bones of the earth’ said sister sunlight ‘I spun thread across the world I faded into the glimmering landscape and disappeared – am I seen now?’

‘I saw no hope in the maintenance of the proper way’ said the bone-man ‘I ran my fingers over the atlas this history of ruin – was the unknown tale not told?’

‘I miss her weary face the lack of her’ said little boy blue ‘we quarrel in the dull of shadowcloud the cold tides whisper it is a little life – I sleep in sealskin could I be a seal?’

‘red-curtained dancing and one song ’ said sister sunlight ‘a rhythm anthem to catch their name their special odor I demand kisses that burn – where does it hurt? where does it not?’

‘this was the necessary machinery’ said the bone-man ‘severing antibodies cultured in the third star while baseless treatment and limited neurons aged us – is the glass full or is it run?’

‘no voice but the voice of the frost’ said little boy blue ‘my ear to the cool snowmoss to read for you clouds parting the comet fallen – are you watching the moonrise?’

‘now I live in desert air’ said sister sunlight ‘my house on fire it is a way of life blazing far from their insult these are my stubborn joys – are they smiling still?’

‘ashes live their fires’ said the bone man ‘we are such stuff as ghostbreath insubstantial – if knowledge is destiny what has become of the intervening question?’

‘I shut the gates’ said little boy blue ‘I bury the pretty toys in old rustgrass shade of dark ivy fades to silent dust closing my eye – is this winter now in my bones?

‘here in my secret saltblood I am not old’ said sister sunlight ‘I spin now close to my fantastic roots a gorgeous leopard dreams in my lap – and you say that passion is ended?’

‘I saw no sun’ said the bone man ‘only a sculpture and the contemplation of a cut thread it was absence unfelt dividing – the years are long and between us nothing is ended’