Here We Are

In the mansion of a dream
I would rescue furniture from the fire
that lived in every room

Trembling in the curtains
and along the boards
quiet and content

But here we are

My courage is real
you are wise and beautiful
we talk between kisses

We do not dissolve into some chemical
we hold our shapes
beneath the coffered ceiling.

The Demi-Urge of Uxkull

Pulled from my horse
I could not find the ground
A litter for my self was made
Each hand becoming cup and blade
Tight to my throat
a berried bramble wound.

Minute 2.48

Brought down in the devil’s hour, out of dreams

And pigeon-pressed, no figment in the screams;

The lives behind their mirrors hesitate,

In times become the silent thirty-eight.

The Death Ship by B. Traven