sometimes I close my eyes and charge raggedly over open ground,
swaddled in gentle air
that is torn by the song of leaden hornets
and ripped by orange tongued serpents of black smoke.
I run to kill those I have never known,
men who have never seen me cry
and have not heard that my laughter bubbles
from the same clay pot as theirs.
between breaths I still live there,
in the brief eternity of that curious conjunction,
that place where life’s peak smiles at death,
brother to brother.
Gary Mathews
how in hades did i miss this?
it is beautiful work gary… i wish you would lend your hand to the vertical expressions more often. there is a starkness; a monotone imagery; a gift of clarity in this that i relish and appreciate.
i am unable to convey anything simply – it’s all an obfuscating tangle of thought and dream; a frustrating gnarl of fine chain. I only wish that i could share something as vividly and openly as you do.