BRUNK HOWARD


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second floor window hands

Rambling walking, aimless talking

To myself on the street of elves

In the misbegotten not forgotten

Candy cotton clothes that the wind knows.


Rain quenches the sun's wrenches

While fog feels what I can't conceal

In stores' fronts that take the brunt

Of my reflections without intentions.


Dreaming skywards looking high-wards

When by chance of fever's dance

Two hands- fingers spread eyes behind--(solace's bed(?)

Peering out offering doubt of the devout.


Endless cities' streets can't delete

Our future meet in the icy heat

Of my mind that swims in time

And can't leave behind an endless climb.


Pushing the bell, will it be heaven and hell

Where it began with second floor, second floor  window hands?


But doubt is not certain in the mind's curtain

And the two-faced devil-god winks and nods

As I open the door and climb the stairs for ever more.

To reach two hands with fingers spread eyes behind (solace's bed?) .


Pushing the bell, is it heaven and hell

Where it began with second floor window hands.

Fingers spread on window glass eyes looking through into our past

Whose every feature mirrors our future.


Will it be more on the second floor

Will it be best for those hands' guest?

I can't guess,  I can't guess?

Seeking rest, seeking rest

In those second floor, spread finger, window hands, window hands.