Relics of a Bastard Age

Left spent in the detritus of
This extinction of moments that overflow
Those anticipations that now lie rotting
Upon a floor that groans with the gravity
Of imprecations and censorious guilt.

Abandoned to reverie and incubal madness
This unseeable absurdity of delirial prophesy
Eats away at useless apology and regret
And there in the dead of this hour of my wolf
I suffer the relics of a bastard age.

Red Truths

Less purposed reason, what remains is
The faint discord of softly falling water,
A brief slander of expectant seasons
Cut too short by shears of moiral law.

That homeless madness wrecks black carnage
Beneath conventioned words of cultivated gravity
Like the jester’s bold washed cacophony,
By cold design to eclipse red truth with lies.

When only that same cold design might serve
Borne in tainted hands sworn here to solace,
Must Desire bow now before Need,
And anguished, sever one’s only comfort.


This clock toils on in silence
While present ambiguities
Eat all presence of
Both weight and mind

Laboring under the effort of
Its own leaden weathered hands
Time reaches forth to
Strangle all conceit of hope

Soon only the past might endure
As sand spilled out upon
An imprint of shattered glass
And measured minute dust

That arrow that has but little
Far yet to fly carries with her
Memories on raven’s wings
Endured by the stone below


The sun crawls over a sky full of time
Flaying the day of the grey shadows
Scalps skinned from each pass to sit
Collecting in the dust of my own dread

But like the dusk annihilation cannot
Long be withheld, and whether by short
Or by struggle the thread will be cut and
However far it is will always be wanting

So with hands empty I watch this day die
Red light spilling like innocent blood
With knives carved of both morning and dusk
Their cost the bitten price of my own lingering


Caught in the familiar shade of
This my historical envy
That bitter truth shadowed by
This memetic lie

Always siezed in the copper light
Of this my collective community
Only an alliance of cold enmities
For my happy reward

And now trapped in these borderlands
Cut by my own circumscribed mind
Silenced by loathed dignity
Captured by pride