angel

through reeds as white as shaded embers
in the moonlight where the reeds called in the delta
were these verbs that spoke with rushing water
"it is the end of the Earth"
and how complacent I was
sitting there on the banks
like a damsel garbed in white gown
just listening to the echo of love
as it left like a rifle shot
moving into something larger
like the rings of Saturn
lingering in her earring.

i thought i would fashion a carving
with some sharp ugly knife
up there in the forest,
maybe in the silouhette of a rabbit
or something beyond quiet
like a lizard
that moves and darts in those flits
of stillness and motion
that work like water
only not in similie.

we once were kings, you and I
and our kingdom fell with hearts aflame
those old goblets of honey mead
and lavish dinners where we sat in revelry
and I stripped off my silver armors
wondering, calling.

but now that Old Earth is calling
so you know
it always ended but then begun
from those old Renaissance cartographies
into empires that moved and fell and grew
changing from Europe to Asia to North America
and within the motions of those latitudes of politics
I knew that somehow
we had found something that could never fall
in the depths of old wells filled with silver rain water
as the world turned
we figured it would die
but it outlasted even the day of Sun
as those old curses fell back into odd books lined with gold
and those odd looks were only indicative of excitement and life,
the jewelry of your eyes
worth more than a diamond
just looking
and seeing
and that was worth more than wrought iron
or the existence of some long distance love affair
when you fought you placed your name inside of your chest
and sang with the robins
even though the future looked dark and dismal,
we found a blessed ship
and got off this dying planet
watching the land from the sky
our future was to swim in nebulas the color of velvet
and to drink wine,
to always drink wine.

yours.