deep room

Such a deep room,
The gypsy night,
My eyes burn,
They turn into hours,
I walk into starlight
Foot prints in the sky
The echo machine,
Miles and miles,
Inscriptions on the cradle of the rumble fish,
Wave houses on the shore of dots and dashes,
Cyber bottles throwing shadows on the moon,

Such a deep silence,
The gypsy flight,
My ears unlearn,
Meet the passing markers of spots and flashes,
The Esher sanctuary, running away, in and out of itself,

The radio blinks,
The gypsy sinks,
Winks sentient wishes,
Prescient reflections,
Passing arc of the searchlight,
The starlight in your eyes,
The ragged starfish,
A tide through the window,
Pulls me through,
In search of real fire,
Somewhere in the side door,

The clockwork dreams,
Of things it left behind,
A star shines directly into your sign,
Put it in your heart,
With the gypsy sight,

The stain believes in whoever calls the rain,
Hanging on the edge of hollow star born, sky torn,
The seven headed beast under the storm,
Who holds the dream now,
Gypsy delight,
The east sings to the night,
I stand so far behind,
Tainted star dust,
Holds little circles of dance,
Little infants racing in their solitary needs.
Bashing into simplitcity,
Only to be seen leaving into darkness again,

Dressed in gypsy bite,
To the window and down the hall,
The second wind
With second sight,
Spiders in flight,
The little breaks in continuity in the night,
This is what they said;
“ butterball fish baby your gonna choke on that wall,
with your flashing hopes and all,
splashing down your last chance says it all,
gutterball dash, no where to dance,
romance and clash,
tightly held sand.

Who holds the shifting cloudbanks in the east of the night,
How wide to let it out,
How wide to hear the sound,
Here I drown,
Untouched by all that’s ever been known,