the raven's call matched our fall with a precision instrument
the color of a feather casted down on the sidewalk in a refutation
of our fates and an acceptance of our destinies.

You mean you still don't know?

We were born for each other on this pale blue world
that revolves like a supple dewdrop corkscrew-wise
around a glowing vine that we know as the sun's
gravity, all fire and light and sight in the dim void
of spacious emptiness.

and we drank our wine from oak cups until our wooden
mouths were stained with the blush of blood's slash
which made us more than human, made us intoxicated
with the gentle oceans of liquour pulling at us
as if we were boats in the tides.

engines speak no more, they are buried beneath the earth
in coffins made for machines and the dark night of yesteryear
has been absolved in the starlight of the new moon,
invisible lest you be an astronomer or a astrologer,
concerned with pulls of tidal current and darkened
spheres influencing our watery lives with the touch
of gravity's love.

Do not betray me any further. You only betray yourselves.

I came here to instruct you about the truth of beauty,
I came here to be true and beautiful with you
and you lock me away for safe-keeping like a rotting
peach, thinking that I may be fragrant and yet ever
delicious upon my return. Well I will tell you
that I hate your acts but I do not hate you,
for you may be foolish with wine and wise with money
but you are neither when it comes to me.

and in vespers of twilight we raise our penitent heads
to the celebration of our lives that lost its cliches
and in the tides of revenge we refuse what isn't ours,
namely a hatred longing for an artificial completion
that is never obtained, but burns down what is you
in flames bedecked with flames.

remember to wake
remember,
remember my friends
who you were when you were sober
remember who you were when you
were older
remember who you were when you
walked down the street in those cute boots
to deliver a message to the landlord saying
that you didnt feel like paying rent this month
because his services had been less than adequate
and remember who you were
when you stood up to your father
and remember who you were
when you bathed yourself in laughter
and remember you were and you will
become who you are supposed to be
mainly a memory with all this secret history
mainly a melody with all this open euphony
mainly a medley of all the sweetened symphonies
mainly a memory, mainly a symphony.