For The Captain

I.

Relax, no song is written,

nothing you thought of yourself.

It's just a ghost

that came unbidden

to this house.

This infection grows stronger every year,

this seed inside the water of your tear.

There is no escaping it.

This seed blooming in the water of your tear

the way an unborn baby's ear unfolds in your belly.

This infection grows stronger every year,

this direction of a tear rolling down your cheek,

there is no escaping it.

There is no escaping

the thing that is making its home in your radio.

II.

Bless this tiny alley

we have fallen from tall buildings

we have fallen through the air

into a garden sweetly smelling of the softest sleeping flowers

now they sit under the sidedewalk

they have waiting for the shining of some future sun to show us

all that is your beauty and

oh and all that brings you pleasure

I could sigh into your heart

say I hope I'm here forever

but captain with your lovers

with your list of favorite pillows

with your list of missing of children

with the wall where you drew windows

overlooking hidden gardens

cut apart by jagged mountains

climbing up into the air

and crumbling down into a fountain

where the water waits forever

like a quiet distant treasure

when you rise up and recover

when you leave this tiny alley

when you meet me in the garden

with your arms all full of cedar

every spirits brushing past me

brushing past me in the ether

scream "all this is window dressing

all you are is flimsy curtains

you will flame up with a word from us

and won't know that you're burning."