I found

written on the invisible silences

stretching sky deep beyond your sight

thrown in the mouldering trash heap

by infantile jealous fingers

and forgotten as absurdity

while the bugs crawled out breathing tiny screams

and the livingston seagull

unchained flew with my sound in it's mouth

over the obscure wave lengths

above radio antennae

broadcasting the laments of the lonely

gathering them up for the angels to note

the earless tone deaf popstars

and heartless pedophiles

shattering their own daughters in the wide swath

of erection's wake

of childhood drowning

in the name of machismo's trophy

those hours on the grange

sands of former glass castles

sifting into endless blasted Texas

no one looked to you for anything

your native inner hero closed his eyes

finally slaughtered and shamed

into dive bar blues covers and

the drunkeness of your progenitors

one dark fiery mid nacht while the writer

gasped under the weight of unspoken words

a nightblind driver made the journey

carrying the medicine of the blessed dead watchers

quite possibly saving the children

from a motherless existence for a time

and changing the entire world's existence

in the name of his love