Leaf

Leaf
To bring the heart,

a heart sullen yet pounding still, to bring the heart out

at November sunset,

one must have turned.

To write in the minutes past twilight.

The mind becomes still.

As the the heart rages on.

Afraid of the dullness in the sky, above broken hands that reach always for the bright planet.

Hoping the turning dead leaves crisp and twirl all night even as the evening fallls,

The hope of days past will visit now and again in these turning leaves,

these dying leaves turning in the ceaseless battle of winter's arrival.

I know you said all worlds are not the same, once you said that to me.

But this one sparks a memory of a small brush fire, warming my Muskogean hands

ripped by bark and briar,

Yes this small twilight, this end of a day

sparks the fires of memory-

Of brittle leaves turning.

Of a brittle soul turning and turning,

always in the wind.

C.Kane

Flashcard

Leaning on the railing above the waves, your safe, handsome mouth soothing my crazy mind with magic words that only you knew: "Our secret apricot mornings for the night time things that scare you so. Tell me you hear me, so I don't worry."

"And my Dear One, take my heart: this big thing for your worry." And you thumped your chest, shirtless and dark. We shelled through the salt sand, stranded forevr in the sad-beauty of summer til it turned brown and crisp & you returned back to Cambridge and left me to my poems and fears.

The planet turned and the winter raged, ice melted and when the summer sun flashed in my eyes,you'd return again and pick up where we left off,

I see Rome I see Madrid I see Berlin! You were a boy at the end of your life chasing the surf & twirling your shadow.

and oh how I loved you for that. And that blackbear hair of yours that just needed an ivy crown and hawk feathers to turn you into a bare chested Druid King in board shorts.

I see Neptune I see Venus, no, Im not kidding... I ....really do........see Venus right .........here, you mumbled as your lips touched mine under an August moon.

I couldnt stop myself from loving them forever. I stopped trying again this year.

I see Jupiter I see Mars I see Mercury.

But I couldn't see the Earth with all it's dangers and traps set just for you.

Now Earth just turns and the seasons unravel as I try to hold on:

as lost and unknown as a magic hawk feather that blows forev'r unfound across a winter beach & I can't feel a fucking thing without you, Jem.

Barnburner Edit

Before the moon rises over blue fields,

I'll set my mystic heart in motion to the silent weaving of twilight,

in the gentle arms of darkened, silent rooms, we will seek each other-

surge over silver cirrus and wheatfields, swept up by the roar of our sea.

Revenant III

Distant as the summer wave . I drowned there.


Quiet as the snowy night. I let my spirit rise.

Two ruddy hawks and a hand full of regret. My heart pumps sand painted midnight blue.

Harpsichord tremblings jitters my veins and I don't remember anymore.

I write myself notes, stuff inkblot pages with phaded photos and try to lie under the world,

one more time escape the vicious radar of a place I can't touch, with hands that can't feel.

Dear God, My God, don't let them remember me.

Speakeasy

This is the quiet thrum of planets. Here is where we cut our souls and bled for her.

Mother, don't go. I need you.

Halloween has come and gone, the giant grinder awaits my awful bones and my useless synapses.

A softer thing begins to waft, a slow and easy mind, my Light flickers, I'm lost

and Mother just spins and spins.

The Emancipation of Pegasus

I carried the wind from town to town, strange hungers kept me alive.

Many cars and storms passed me be, the ice melted over Neptune

where I lost my way in the bends and curves.

The dreaming never ends, the waking never begins.

The dreamer becomes the ocean at last. Alone and full of every lost moment,

as many as stars in the sky. As many as the doubts in my bones.

As many as the rip-cord questions I rev up my ghost with.

Falling from loose vines from here to a rip-tide.

A rip-cord a rip-tide a ring around the rosie.

A rip-tide a sui-cide a pocket full of posies.

So I just drown.

No one but Luna can breathe life into me but she's gone dreaming the dream.

Years pass and the sea and the sun have bleached my beach-bones white as I rest freezing

in the winter sun. Alone at last, I'm free and gone dreaming.

The Dying of the Light

Early, it's too early they say, you're much too young. Hey, you aren't a stone.

And yet, there where you stand the world passes you by and no tears come,

must be too early, the trees haven't caught flame yet, tho the dryspell cracks my ribs.

Spineless in my dizzy dance, I beg the stars to buzz just once for me.

The haze of my soul spreads over the dying ash of green,

a cloaked grayness will bleed my destiny and overtake the afternoons.

I plan on evacuating the colors of the world to send postcards to the sacred burial-sites.

I know the shun. I see how everything views my imprisoned soul.

Even suffering Orion pitys my meaningless thrumming, there where his ancient flesh rots: suspended half-dead above my equinox.

Under the broken promises of great storms, my bones ache, I go on living just to spite the fates,
and my hands do nothing but weave the air to the air. All the days, these fiery minutes reduced to dust and memory.

Here is where I'll oxidize under such vast Creation.

The Dying of The Dream

Early, it's early they say, and you aren't a stone-

yet where you stand the world passes you by and no tears come,

must be too early, the trees haven't caught flame yet.

The haze of my soul spreads over the dying ash of green,

a cloaked grayness will arrrive and overtake the afternoons.

I plan on evacuating the colors of the world to send postcards to the holy.

Even to suffering Orion, there where his ancient flesh rots: suspended half-dead above my equinox.

Under the broken promises of great storms, my bones ache, I live, and my hands

do nothing but weave the air to the air. The fiery minutes reduced to dust and memory.

Here is where I'll oxidize under Creation.

Sanction

I thought the winds would cleanse me or the birdsong unlock the years.

Time has not been gentle but I find ways to ignore the overflow.

Long ago, I made a home inside the hope of something small.

I discussed this with the northern stars on Sundays.

But through the years the night burned cold

and the small thing that I banked on, finally died.

The last time I saw it, the waves were breaking over,

and carrying it fast downstream, it struggled and tried to swim.

I never saw it again but often in my lonely dreams, I hear the water rushing

and I see it's wild eyes gleaming in it's very last breath.

Haunted by the sounds of my own wasted footfalls,

scuffling across a giant blue planet; and more broken than a burning wing.

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.

Endless

For An Artist Who Once Was



Silent purples, wash of stars,

at last a light in the east.

(it has to be the thought of morning.)

The endless cadence of mornings and twilights

thrumming in the ribs and cartilage of my memory,

all a dream broken by

symbols and time.

I wake from this dream sobbing and crippled.



Endless days. I feel, endless.



My heart begins to accept it's fate:

a weak connection to a vibrant dream,

static and erractic energy and then,

it comes into focus, I can see me there, so alone.

Endless child, you little creature. Lost on this high place above the sea,

endlessly looking down on a world you'll never love again.

Eternal Love Eternal Children

I still love you, John.

Nez-Perce.

Navajo woman. Crow tomahawk. Crow medicine man.

High Priest. Taos Brave. Snake-Chief.

Navajo. Taos warrior in blanket. Hopi brave.