J's L

Whose barricade is this
Set neatly across the day
Held up by blindfolds
Tied down with amnesia
In muddy aging ground
Under perpetual twilight
Separate from kid gloves
Worn out and speckled
Disgraced and kneaded
By clenched hands broken
Near your burning fires
Unseen somewhere away
From these motley fields
Beholden to deep sleep

A rain of neat shards
Torn from a swing-set
Decaying and forgotten

El paraguas refused
In the eye of it all
Calm and ready
For the builder
Of barricades
To come
Again

That lagrima stings
Hating its maker
Forsworn prodigal
Sharpening sticks
Toward that moment
Of perpetual action
Our lady of eyelids
Lays down in the dark

That these eyes can still see
Is a crime...a fucking crime

Outside of myself a promise tender on many shoulders
If crushed I smear a promise tossed by little by little
On top of no one
A promise burning
With eyelids stretched

Diademed sorrows
Sit in the morning fog
Revealed like cowardly
Stripes across my head

Pinpoint visions collapse
To beaks open to sip
Open to the days curse
Open to my history

Crowned sparrows
Drink in devastation
Constructed like tear
Stripes down my face

Within my clay a failing tender to visions surrounding
So bruised I surrender a failing arisen by little by little
To blindness given
A failing up close
On eyelids touched

Open to the days curse
Open to my history
That these eyes can still see
Is a crime...a fucking crime