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There it goes 9:29 p.m. 2006-01-17 Perched atop trees while wilting architecture melts into skylines and the haze of midday cloudswept this inkblot sky a smear of golden crimson backlit by angels and the angles the lights strike your face. Aerial and contrived efferescent avians arc paint-thick colours across murals traced in divinity and sidewalk chalk. Whistles of wind are the curvature of earth sliding frictionless against God and the giggles of children when the lights cut out. I found a letter crumpled in the corner of my room, next to boxes filled with stillframes, videocassests and dedications to you, a letter worn by time and the ache of seperation and it whispered over the airwaves like that song we used to play. The words stuttered in and out of vision like drawn smoke and none of it really mattered up until the end, where'd you'd signed it. I see those letters traced in contrails every october morning watching gods steepled fingers play out their chords and I've seen proof of your existence in every facet of life since the day you left. I'd always thought you were a dream. back & forth |