Quicksilver, Slowsilver, Stillsilver
(for D)
dreaming of your molten life,
your hot, mirrored heart.
Silver moonlight at dawn-
I’ll be sorry if I unblock (---)”s profile.
I just don’t want to know,
I’ll be sorry.
Where do we go…
no one can predict our motion,
our entanglements
that takes us from one end of the universe
to the other,
yet 3000 miles
is unbearably long
to your embrace.
Bolides.
All night,
green fire and loud booms
influence dreams.
A war in heaven,
you as Helen of Troy
sending angels into glorious battle.
Brian Moreau
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Heat Wave '10
The sun is lighting the world
into a Kurosawa film,
everywhere,
the bright orange corpse of grass.
The rain stays away out of shame.
One by one,
we find ourselves breaking down,
confessing,
hot kitchens and bedrooms
become silent and guilty.
The A/C drones the longest catechism
in history,
the warm breezes asking:
"If the rain won't forgive you,
how can a lover?
Or a heart that's grown to hate you?"
Brian Moreau
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Yellow moon behind clouds, October 1978
I wish you could have seen it love.
Mom and I were shopping in
She bought me a Battlestar Galactica T-shirtand then burned rubber along the back roads to get me in bed an hour past bedtime.
That night, I dreamed I lived in a kingdom ruled by fellow children.
All we ever ate was spicy pasta and meatballs.
Then in my dream I was back on that lonely road
my Mom drove to get me home.
I saw a street light in the distance and it broke my heart.
I wanted that beautiful light to never go out,
shine on me always.
I know dreams should remain private
but sometimes they are the only things we can share,
that little bit of rope we throw to each other
when the voice of the abyss is loud, insistent.
Brian Moreau
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Depth Charge
that the sailors found
the blossoms of light in the depths
beautiful
and that, come dawn,
the sight of the ocean littered
with U-boat debris could only
be considered a good omen,
one less enemy stalking them
thru the water.
Some days,
I’m only a bright flash in your shadows,
a weapon of love fired scattershot
into the dark.
Some days,
armistice seems impossible,
our hearts faltering
under the crushing pressure
of everything destiny has hidden from us.
Brian Moreau