sorting cards in a fogbank

Slow train out of Peking headed for Islamabad on a hazy Sunday afternoon, The burning of fields, and coal fired ovens, people with bowed heads, A full load of bad memories, there was only one place to go, Back to the million faces I left behind, And begin a life, Alone in a silver box car cabin, it was still, They had not yet asked for my ticket and papers, The softness came through the insulated panels, It was what I had been noticing ever since the rain stopped, And she left me that note saying she would not be back Everything went great except the gold turned to lead, In and out of understanding under my skin, She a sphindlehocker Icons on the ocean floor I just fell apart in the tropical currents, Just under my skin in the middle of the night on a full moon, A brighter light where it doesn’t get any darker, I’m so hidden I’m so deceptive, Camouflaged in pain, Of the greatest stories Of how I waited to speak and now it’s too late, They didn’t know I heard them talking about how far I’d gone To the root cellular body, And that I was lost at the gate, A date of remote banishment, Immune reactions undermined the kisses of peace, Video haled walkabout walls of fury, Stalled childhood vestigial vertex systems, Caught up in a 40 day context, Begins to flood with night shadows without depth, A stirring spring night storm, carrying ghosts up into the sky, Counter computations correction captions coverage, Relay circuits call me to explain, Stretch the windscreen canvas thinner and thinner, Just under my skin, She put my fictations up against her own, We were laughing just under the glass, It was out of my hands again, The dancing chance, Flirtations on a stage of spider web sprawlings, And blood stains underneath, shadow heart tracer little death trap, She changed the melting point just under my skin, And I slept and dreamt of better days, I never became vapour, and had to trade butter for brains, In the lost shore decibel retriever, The over load transfer just under my skin, Single foot jumping meter, glued to a rainstorm, I tried to move in here once before, Melting out little distillations of twilight, Extract laws of perfection, In the night cocoon I was reduced to silver ball of mercury, The pulse of life reduced to perfect cohesion, The reflection of all my sacred moments crushing without detail, They asked where I’d been She said it don’t matter, he speaks in skin, Awaiting the dawn of form, Armies of the latest fashion, Fight for freedom just under the edge of the season, Pause to give me a second chance, I jump around like a fish out of water coming out of my skin, My breath is a drain hole, Missing faces pumped in to a vacuum, I turned away for a moment and all my puzzle pieces fell apart, And breathe the fire of escaped childhood friends, Feel the wind and feed the crocodile teeth, Keeps me afloat in the storm Keep track of the visitations Welcome to the evening she said, There are little golden shadows of forgiveness, A place where you can rest Epilogue: The blue sage in the garden finally died, The blue fish watches with the opening hole in his chest, It can’t hold the lost dancer