Savage


Ravish the silver sky and teach my heart
higher law.

If my promises aren't enough,
then perhaps a revelation of sorts can do the trick.

Keep your eyes closed through the next session,
my savage bird of twilight.

I reached for ragged ghosts from the harbor-lit
arena of storm surges; flipping floundered wishes
in sollemn dirges all my life. The effervescence of illness bubbly ballast,
emm......crumble crank.

When I finally died it was as if the
Earth split open and revealed
it's utter disdain for hatred,
her love of saltwater an blue stars...
Wait...hold up...What the hell is "crumble crank?"

However hard I tried I could not make my life
substantial, or even tangible. Ridiculous twilights and
shattered mornings of apricot dawn
blended with
sad loss and realization of just how far from home we really
are.
After the crankshaft of the craft crumbled we could not return home to Earth the same.
I have wanted to find sunlit paths...
it isnt from lack of wanting that I died.
Whaaaaaaat?


It was just too obvious in trhe end, they said.
Too obscenely blatant was the moonmadness
one less misfit abductee with no hero
walks the weeeping, challenged
Earth.

Flashback from Neptune: She was so beautiful face to face that
it hurt the clouds in my eyes and made me awkwardly try and fill silver spoonfuls
of tingling rain whilst balancing on my good leg, and I crazily began to
summon forth amber spirits, watched 'em dancin' all through my
lazy, wicked bones.

The revelation is almost complete.
I hope you enjoyed our short flight.
Please remain, as always,

my lost dream of sunlit garden paths under Autumnal Equinoxes,
my last wish under Northern Lights,
my eternal hope of vibrant bird-song in June.


C.E. Kane

Ether'd Sky Drifta

Erstwhile soul I beg you to stop

never pay me any mind

a scalawag ship-mate,

a bustered dead song

I implore you to stop following me

I need some space.


Grovel beyond red stars

and spirited flames of

ore and iron,

hear copper beaches

clang thru marshland endeavours and

I neither have the fortitude

nor the character

to go forth with you by my side.

But cold angel, listen to me:

If ever a cloud demon lov'd an angel more

I would disentagrate into (sub)urban myth and mists

Carrrying solid visions

of tangerine promises & dark throated fields afire

with makeshift masks streaked in the blood of

the primeval holy lamb,

doused in the anguish of mortal man.


It is time again, my friends & foes,

to enter the ether'd drift

of rose-milk sky

and ponder the planets and oxygen.

In short, it is now my tenuous duty

to become the keeper of

my atmosphere

listening tentatively to dappled seashells

turned towards the mountains below.

I walk sideways into the flames and bid you good evening.