THE WEIGHT OF A FEATHER ON A SCALE

I can smell the taints of childhood
and I apologiza that I have let go
of the fragrance, proning me to tarnish
the unwounded rest of pastures
from the wealthy fields

I climbed torooftops and deceived
my hands to visible realities
that knows no boundaries
and stabs the human heart, a swelling truth
swept to the flow of gleaming rivers
I fell in the spell of dunes

I speak the filtered monotone of quietness
pale as the night swirling in solitude
tracing the last four miles before I was
standing here

I ask forgiveness to childhood
the weight of a bitter ordinary stole
the dusk of each new beginning and
the ventures drafted on roadsides, gone...

I pick dusts fallen from the rites
beyond the slope of a sinking, scoured sight
trampled into the edges of life, and its blade,
a smear of blood