Thom Schiele

crashing thoughts against the additive glow
of evening..watching time sing between the foggy stars
a handsome dweller in the hours of hunting follows his own steps

Some Heaven knows the machine behind this smile
and collects the fallen teeth as they hit the grass and chew to hell
with out oil or esteem

picked apart by falling snow
torn down from the clouds like swords on judgment day
if such a day exists, it will be cold and withdrawn
like busted Televisions
yes that was us in the fire

Running from silence decided soon after the crash
Our train cars
burnt
and they lay down in the smoke mumbling metal alphabets


the sea decides for itself that the sun set with other ideas
and lulls against the shore ina timely addiction

My dearest darling scorched
and wide awake in the smoke

she was a child’s first smile after the first bee sting