ignorance climbing down into the canyon

The whirlwind of possibilities described in swaths of sunlight
make me bleed my nonsense on the floor of my steps like an accrued
night of the spirit and the darkness in between my neurons fashioned
like ancient trees highlights experience's gallery of beautiful disease
garnered like the motions of a sparrow's flight by the photographer
behind the eye who closes the shutter on the lens when the picture
is obscured by a disembodied hand that turns each image into the
palm of lined and reaching fights for freedom against the grasp
of a prison's handshake sealed with the lock of moonlight.

It's not a dance you've seen on the television of the spirit
or a man who walks with briefcase during daytime and in the night
chases after golden haired women; its a mechanism that's been seen
within the source of being's light, it's a delicate disease that
forms when you have to fight and it's a way to lengthen joy across
the boughs of blossomed branch with gentle twigs holding flowers like
tiny hands out to the reach of someone's elegent moon sky.

But we've spoken here in the neon cafe where the sun is absent from the day
and we've drank this cup before with sugar, and no one knows who has the right
to order the waitress nude upon the table just as no one knows who fashioned
light from stardust seeds and candled columns glowering from temple stairs.

And I don't know what I speak of when the flock of birds sweeps across the
burgeoning blue of the hallowed sky. I don't know even what fire is as it crosses
our mirrors and nestles in waxen feathers like a burden touched with flecks of
destruction's burning night, I don't know who appointed our dreams upon our sleep with feathered curls of dove-tails, and I don't know why I scramble across river-stones with a hopeless head as the rifles open fire in ravine nestled against the mountain, where I raised my voice high and shouted down my edge tales where the lightning snaps the flatness of the sky...

See me humble with my mall clothing as I buy another red wine, see me drink myself dry, see me ask for imagination's red sails to flutter high up the mast with the weekend wind manipulating the tell-tales above the heaving ocean's din...

What once was a treasure map has faded into the day, what once was a column of support became the rubble of clay, and what washed me with clear water has pulled me down the dark canyon with the torrents of tragedy, with the shattering of my days,

so here we are in sequence of time's graceful delay, so here we are in evening dress while the summer moves away, so here we are in our majesty while the rain moves its own way,

let me speak as I sin, oh traveled instrument of skin, let me sing if they win, my tired bones becoming flutes in some lost and unexplored weathered canyon...

dah dah de dah, dah dah

dee dah dee dum, dah,, dah duh dah