Into the wood I went
Into the dark impending darkness, desolate, dissolved
A thousand scattered diamonds, across the floor
A thousand unanswered questions, thrown down
Melting off branches in the wind, in autumn funeral
In petals of thought in peals of wood
Into the wood I went, stepping from path to path
From stream to stream to trodden grass
Twelve o'clock the bells contract
And birds swim across the thinning mist
Skies dark, above swaying trees, unseen in the dusk that has fallen
Down here.
Alice fell down and down
The tumbling maze, the turning tracks
The holes in which shoes will roll
She landed solely on her feet, upon a checkered square
In the wood she came, into the wood she left
But the wood will never leave her mind
When she fell so from the path
She waved goodbye, shone on through thickening thickets
And sank into the dank earth, the salty earth of the wood
The foot sinking into the puddle, a child playing in mud
The mother angry, plucks her out
But she has no mother, and the foot no body
And so she sinks, after twelve, for now it is twelve fifteen
And soon awakes the dead
Displacing her grace, rising in thick smoky columns, lumbering
Through forest deep, along the path, on which they once walked
Looking for Alice, in the closing hole
Of the rabbit
I wandered lightly through now, barely touching the ground
Tripping slightly, barely making a sound.
Between the stalks, egg white flesh leaps expectantly
Expecting a welcome, clawing leaves, shredding grasses with
Their feet. Becoming bolder as she has gone
And left them to run. In the wood
Nobody can hear their screams, now they don't exist.
So they reach towards me
As I run through the wood.
To love was to become solitary
A rich velvet curtain, pulled, across the bed
Dirty grey light drifts in clumps, writhing limbs in tangled
Swollen lips, sealed shut, unyielding
Throaty singing, black lines race up to meet salty corners
Red silk sways, sway
Adorer c'est être solitaire, mais vous êtes pas dans la forêt
You are in the wood of another, in racing fields
By racing streams, criss crossing meadows, feet bare, legs lean
Curtain falling, falling, down
Singing, singing, softly drowned
Writhing limbs shuddering to a distant drum, echoing past
Trees, twisted in place, tortured, swollen like the lips
Of the singers
Si tu veux un amour durable; être préparé pour la pluie
Droplets will scatter, a myriad of fallen stars at your feet
Unless you piece together, un coeur brisé
Alors vous verrez la pluie comme les étoiles dans le ciel
Unlasting love
Fog bred fast, through the wood
Love bled last, in the wood
Till all left felled was grass
And wispy smoke
Burning ashes blow around, bones buried under ground
Hands reaching never meeting, over newly blackened land
Sing on great singers of ages past
Sing through the cold, black inky night
And wake tomorrow in tumbled sheets, with strangers rocking
By fire grates, to stave off the ever welcoming dream
Where ashes dance, and bone filled earth crumbles near
Blistered feet.
Adorer c'est être solitaire
Comme les étoiles dans le ciel
And after the ball, there was silence
All around, and the trays were carried out
Chairs folded away into hidden closets
Half eaten meats returned themselves to the pantry
And then there was silence.
At the end, of the dining room, large
Wooden stakes sit, high and regal, with souls
Speared on each point, they shiver, and squirm
But resist resisting, in the cold hall that had once
Bustled warm in the winter ball
The serving girl cleared away the last of the dishes
Then approached the long alter, to pardon the souls, caught
On the bridge between worlds, but in nearing
She aged, until wrinkled frowns crossed her brow and she
Stooped to the floor, aching knuckles sore
She finally arrived at the sterile plateau, and kissed each
Forehead in turn, dry lips cracked gently brushed
And stepping back down the hall, her nails grew strong
Hair grew long, creases filling, spine unwinding
The serving girl continues her business, fog fogging her thoughts
Now quickly receding
Her minute of fear sinking back down, seeping into the barren land
Meeting the ashes of the bones, buried further down
Eyes embedded, closed throats strangled, lost in the washes
Of her mind, whisked away in darkened recesses
The souls are forgotten, and the ball holds her memories transfixed
The lights and laughter, food and passion, dirty curtains pulled across
Secret moments, flowing wells of ruby wine, and burnt out hearts
That know not how to see the barren death around
They talk and whimper in hushed soft tones
While the deadly mist pulls all who eat at the sordid banquet
Into the crypt of mortal imprisonment, until all the world
Is fast asleep.
Rich heady smells rose to each cracked skull
Turning towards the ground, they breathed
Filling themselves with ancient musky dirt
That cloaked their vision of passers by
And darkened trees rose up against the sky
And whip their branches down skeletal backs
Drawing droplets of blood from their stoney spines
That trickle and fall
On disquieted earth.
Till the earth stops crying and the men stop dying
And the dead stop bleeding and falling and lying
On twisted roots of troubled pasts
And the trees stop whipping the tortured souls
That labour on
In the wood.
Convulsed. They convulsed, with muted cries
That fell on deafened ears, racking they convulsed
Till groaning, new souls were birthed into the harsh light
And the leaves nestled round to protect them
From the wailing, chalky dead still listening
Ever listening, for the footsteps that fall into the soil
For a traveller wayward walking, into the shadows
Into the trees, into the wood.
