The Hermit Chronicles: Hounds

 “In this world of memories, there’s no need for strangers.” – Watsuki Nobuhiro
  “What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined – 
to strengthen each other – to be at one with each other 
in silent unspeakable memories.” – George Eliot
g0dless-shrine

I hear their cries of excited pursuit as they push their noses high in the air, hoping to sail on the scent of people long gone, caught on the thistles along the paths. Memories, they are the hounds that play along my side as I travel, howling in the night when loneliness stalks me and creeps its way into my tarpaulin refuge. They quietly dig at the unseen footsteps of my past loves when my bottle is near empty and the flames of company have faded to only the dull warm glow of afterthought. I love it when, in the mottled light of sunrise breaking through my shelter of branches, my faithful hounds nudge me with the wet nose of many mornings past. Those mornings when waking to fish my dreams from life’s rivers flowing gently past, I found that elusive “granddaddy”, and pulled it from the muddied water with a rush of victory and pleasure. My camp is filled with many of those that got away. This where my humble abode now sits, along those paw marked muddy banks, that disappear in the fog of today, ghosts of Then floating through Now. I see your quirky look as you wonder at my friends. You have friends like me, though they complain you don’t spend enough time with them, your fires of denial burning bright enough to chase them far away. Relax here in the warmth, lets let our friends mingle, they know how to make smiles and frowns dance with youthful vigor, and just the watching of it will make us tired enough to pass into the night with sweet sleep.

 

Love’s Mortal Wound

“He sees death in the prostitutes who have witnessed the death of honor, and daily multiply the death of love, who bleed away their own lives 50 times a day beneath the relentless stabbings of countless conjugations” – Ed McBain

Our love has suffered a mortal wound

Feeling your name pulled from my chest
Stumbling thoughts, its you I kiss
Waiting for the next heartbeat
Feeling it deep in my bowels
nothing like it in the world
earth shaking my heart unfurls
Cant seem to find the easy forgiveness
Its costing me, running like a blood stream
I wait for you, like a passing cloud with no rain
Promises left unfilled, I break for you,
Inescapable vines, my love
bears a mortal wound
Distant hopes like mirages,
disappear in the change of your light
Promises like the morning fog, quickly gone in the light of truth
Strange though the pleasure you bring on the wings of pain
Surreal your gentle touch on the stroke of punishment
I sway under your movement, you never break your stare
I ran once but found you everywhere
I can’t help but feel the passion 
that gave love a mortal wound


Also published in Broowaha


09072011 

Love’s Mortal Wound

“He sees death in the prostitutes who have witnessed the death of honor, and daily multiply the death of love, who bleed away their own lives 50 times a day beneath the relentless stabbings of countless conjugations” – Ed McBain

Our love has suffered a mortal wound

Feeling your name pulled from my chest
Stumbling thoughts, its you I kiss
Waiting for the next heartbeat
Feeling it deep in my bowels
nothing like it in the world
earth shaking my heart unfurls
Cant seem to find the easy forgiveness
Its costing me, running like a blood stream
I wait for you, like a passing cloud with no rain
Promises left unfilled, I break for you,
Inescapable vines, my love
bears a mortal wound
Distant hopes like mirages,
disappear in the change of your light
Promises like the morning fog, quickly gone in the light of truth
Strange though the pleasure you bring on the wings of pain
Surreal your gentle touch on the stroke of punishment
I sway under your movement, you never break your stare
I ran once but found you everywhere
I can’t help but feel the passion 
that gave love a mortal wound


Also published in Broowaha


09072011