The Blue Book


Lie here
in truth, beneath a past
so vast it shatters memory
until there is just the music
of burning gas, drawn together
by a force far beyond time,
a love so fierce it knows
no boundaries, no borders,
only the between
only the beat
only the broken
cup, cracked through,
a black cross
and sixteen red dots
placed seemingly at random,
but with the rhythm
of a soul who sings old stories
about stars and silence
and all the space inside.


Big Bad World