Trapped in the Sun

Then you'll remember your life
as a book of candles,
each page read by its own burning.
-lee

The tendency to freeze: time aside, forgotten,
but still marching, beyond the wind,
redolent of then: some time that did stop;
or maybe it only stops now.

The tires screech, burn towards the drooping red sun.
Pulsing bass, pulsing beat,
screeching laugh with a steely stare, frozen movement.
I see it, head nodding.
I take it in, red sun blinding.

I write: does the wind taste like death?
I read: life is in the rhythm, between the beats.

Descent

Fuck who's the baddest
A person's status depends on salary...

Thinking:
How to live more, how to spin and laugh with joy,
how to scream at the night, to terrify the darkness with the eye's gleam;
how to touch, to love, without fear of the rising dusk, the muted lights, and dim curtains,
the dripping shadow.
how to feel when fatigue washes the world away, the active malaise, active inactivity, loneliness: the apathy,
The magic of longing.
How to study a world in which few tread,
those tiptoeing past the slumbering horde.

Thinking:
bondage for the free.

Evening Hustle

and one lifts my heart
into the weighing pan opposite hunger...

Peace and war. Am I asking too much? Childhood dreams, youthful ambitions, the bridge from then to now to something great, feeding the forward inertia: to the day when the streets are mine, when the prize has been won, when the dusk keeps itself dimming towards perpetual thrill, lighted glory; when every bright window's secret is known.

Floating beneath my dreams
I crave the firm ground

to fly again