As the Zealous Zephyr Plays

Crescent craters here unstated blurred in ashen alleys dim,
from my heart this wicked whining in uncertain wafting winds-
bare I came, in luscious laughter, gathering disbelieving eyes
in textile thoughts with fiddling fingers robed in secret nameless guise.

Blemished beauty, caution, error, swatting swarms of reckless words
in callous captions that unhinge, the ending curtain cries unheard;
too late I feel the zealous zephyr where hidden pain is evident;
I file it in my dossier sleeve, then tremors trip me, hesitant-

For have we not, in the past, with sunny sided semantics
healed wounds with creamed creations
as dreams drain from cerebral containment
in a mirrored mirage of leather lashings
on crescent craters with luscious laughter
that baffled disbelieving eyes?

Light and darkness know no boundaries, twisted twins, indefinite;
fiercely feigning otherwise, crayola canyons crumbled, split.
Now we grope on unsure paths in cautious, slow clandestine ways,
learning from experience in fruitful fascination, yet
we've been broken, waning whirlwinds tossed from natural navigation
far from lazy, luscious laughter,
lost our art of creamed creation
on spontaneous patchwork playgrounds
as recorded chronicles
rustle in the gentle winds, their faintest cries still evident
in the zealous zephyr playing the pain that has not healed within.