i slow to the fall of evening

slow time, slow

what donít you know

evening falls late,

as autumn in mid-winter,

frozen streets

crystal in ice till

on the floor, of weight

it breaks

water simple down a mountain

echoing nameless calls

falls block the air

quiet long after

darkness

amber burnt glass

frosts an image

shadow seen

a tiny scream

while someone

dreams behind paper walls

just, call me by

name

still again, iím listening

for just three horsemen

have trampled,

into rust - a stage

where players but

bathe,

silently past midnight,

in silver blood

ancient in a

carved, an oaken

wooden tub

with

a fourth rider

a pilgrim alone

image across the full

moon

never too soon

and unseen

on a cloudy

night

slow time , slow

 

for somewhere,

might just have

nowhere to go

;

on nowhere street

/ or a stage of

forgotten walls

but,

who questions the validity of

anotherís defeat

on nowhere street

edged by moonlight

i slow to the

fall of evening

long into the night,

-jude

 

 

 

and tries - and tries

black day in but the

winds which stay

across time, a stillness

concrete falls soundless

a scream echoes, what

and for more

nowhere to stand

earth is the charred view of my

eyes

useless tries

and,

where are dreams

in the seams of a body

yearning to run

free of

all the wheres who dare

to demand closed

hands

for the sea to tear into me,

blue

for,

is it but always

change

sand into a falling wind out

to beyond space

and,

tired of black wood

faces

running nails through their

eyes

in traces of all they never

are

on demanding lines

of inversion lies

and tries - and tries

all the empty tries

for justice is

a call in the wind

from where i end,

to where i begin.

- jude

 

 

 

of water

of water,

a seam on between tomorrow

and yester-year

ice on walls as words

of sanity calls

still before darkening eyes

why takes and

ignored

and never quite

to know of your reach

into now - but deeper

where from the sun-fire

shines the sun

no more

broken finger nails

as smooth hand flesh

a shadow in the

mirror,

and you

almost turn

but see yourself

pause,

the mirror smiles for

a second

a circle into;

- - -

images of,

shatter almost unseen

feel to know

what is,

blue

silver black eyes behind

remembered

, for

the break of

death in birth

, for you hear.

-jude

 

 

 

in screaming to

you want to stop

the echoes

as creases upon

faces - late some

night never seen

sand voices adrift among the stars

afar upon the edged lips of

your fingers

a dream,

in silver and black dirt

the head of a man,

and a screaming woman

dreaming for

soft fingers in

grasp upon your

arm - bodiless,

and just

you learn not to turn around upon

a touch

such that,

you want to grasp full

the names unspoken

moments or belief

in hours of sweatless strain

laughter - full silence in refrain

demands sand only?

within such a rock

formed shell

where who but could ever

dwell

your eyes bend with change

as color roaming never still

snow crystals full

wine squeezed from clear wind

in the blood

of a moon blackened

stain

you run

still you run, on an eternal acre of

sand

color, only color in your command

bare feet torn

unfeeling?

 

reeling out to a wonderís

shadowed wane

water in ice

to form with autumn

frozen in winter

and mountain height

capturing all the still

off a storm

you belong in torn

no more - in screaming

to stop

,

in screaming to.

- jude

 

 

 

duality into freedom

high defined in feel

passed in black dirt and light

flight in near

moments of simulated fear

illusion falls into illusion

and is smiled away

yester-year falls no more

but is

nameless

in refrain a song whispers

as leaves within upon the wind

carving fine across the feel

as my skin

shall i begin

something belongs

something of where,

there - far across

a long marble floor

warm air in cold length

and fingers simply,

more then hear

days pass as moments

and / years

tears recall

but do not fall

doors fade into the image

of a wooden floor

while windows are passed

glass free

shaded in the shadows

just past time motion

moments toward

north

soul to the side of skin

neither without

duality into freedom

no longer until

silence across mornings

heard

of now / and i

/ and...

- jude

 

 

 

an echo's rage

in a cold time rage,

to feel a stage rocked

on edge

a wedge to rhyme

still nameless scream

skin who tears upon

itself -

sanity lies in question

air only lies within reach

strung tight as ever fine bone wine

tires you till you sleep,

never quietly -

far away something sways

in time to your fingertips

someone sips your

blood and ignores

the rage of itís pulse.

someone as nameless

as the wind

what mirror on do

you lie - raging to a run

till you

begin or end -

something bends

into the side of

your vision

and as quickly is gone -

ice is as tears within your eyes

tries but lean as echoes

out into eternity

and the sounds are

silence.

scratches upon the face of

a mirror

rhyme leaning

too deep within -

frost lies upon your dreams

and morning is but a time for

screams.

itís an autumn fire

that,

 

you watch the advent of

winter as crystalline

tries within the

wind.

on the floor lies a deck

of tarot cards

spread in a free

collage of meaninglessness

you almost verbally scream

, almost just run

a poetís image echoes

between two

blank pages.

a stage sways in rock

as a poet tears life

off; into the mirror

through - onto the papers of birth

echoes rage into the print of

his fingertips.

- jude

 

 

 

carvings in water, offered

child born,

and once looked upon

someone smiled

a smile soon

lost - to earth - rock - formed

eternity,

though remembered

a woman soft in the hard flame

of her sun -

bright / black

lost to memory lives a childís need

a greed, too quiet - for the seed

of mirrors -

a woman listens

as sheíll call

and wonders on the names of eyes

someone tries or dies,

day birth remarks

an unnamed face remembered

tears lie still - for the crystal

snow - mirrors

seemingly frozen

upon her fingers

and unseeing.

to hear her breath

cloud free a patch of

tree snow to the

sun - or just she

for it takes just a moment to be

echoes in free

in mornings softened

into life

a child into woman born alive

to smile a moment,

onto her carvings in frozen

stone,

as i see - carvings in water

offered - from wind to

sun

birth eternally recalled

from life a rockís frozen

refrain.

- jude

 

 

 

down in freedom...

be tomorrow eternal

lie today to be - free

a long eyed woman

might lie

to almost frozen leaves

adrift

wind more then thought

as illusive as colors

time broken,

for a changeís freedom of movement

to lie - upon a fold

inside

between woman and free

onto a feathered

touch - who

am i.

in dream form

torn from rocks frozen

silver in light

fingers

easy in their burn of tears

and /

hard to the turn of,

nameless years

as snow unformed

inside. i ride

for she

free windowed walls

own in echo - my leans

and eternal falls

into where

she might carry

with me

fingertips upon touch

down into freedom

owning movement

into we...

-jude

 

 

 

behind a mirror

there is an edge

in tomorrow,

which

often lies as cracked plaster

on a mattress

which,

follows into mine

as a shadow of somewhere

alight upon my fingertips,

of somewhere?

i stand behind a mirror

and look away

long across an ocean

the mind finds shapes

just on the edge of distance

of ships having passed?

of an island in somewhere!

of an unknown need,

in full cry

i try ever to see

as i must,

try ever to not -

wrapped in fine - to

the same

echoes of a game lost

or, echoes of a

dream for more

a child running still

in reach for a fill

a crazy poet,

running still...

-jude

 

 

 

awaiting mornings of silver storms

silent in day birth

stare -

wind carves ice into a mirror,

in knowing

she is there

a forgotten birth

sewn on fine thread

as silver-scarlet is wed

into a rhyme of holding

lines -

hidden in dance

her dance

a chance upon light

or a simple night -

a castle without wear

leans as the wind - seeping

to earth - tears clear

bloodless upon my fingers

is she - awaiting mornings

of silver storms.

-jude

 

 

 

black edge of beginnings

death quiet in air lying

clinging still fast against

my skin

i feel names

as running refrains

i demand - no reason

something waits silent within,

to end on the

black edge of beginnings

and younger days

in fill cross as /

manhatten trains

as a blind man walks

gray filled sky

is morning an untouched

weight

lines un-carved and years

holding stained -

what hand rests

in my open fingers

eyeless calls - fall as leaves

before the earth

the wind lengthens

till,

the what -

of anything begins?

- jude

 

 

 

night walk

i cry ,

i cry solemn tears

deep into the water bend of

years ever still in a moment,

alone

on a cross of time

alone between silence

and / the break of dreams free

in scream

ice in breath whispers

from behind

on the face of no one there

for the refuge of

a lonely mountain/

wrapped free and unseen

somewhere across a concrete fall

naked trees in

winter

as rhythm upon,

my fingertips

eyes who pass through sips

of long - moon to full,

deep black echoes

of a night walk

a lone figure

walking within itís

own shadow,

a tear on the edge of

falling

or a smile going

nowhere -

but for its staring

into...into...

death cries

deep on the edge

of my sight.

- jude

 

 

 

for what illusive visions, retain.

he missed her

where morning wakes

him no longer - late towards day

now he dreams

where full night allows

him no visions,

open in run

he hides - his trying free

music - of autumn fire

aflame in a cross while

time stretches

and a sullen echo

matches the death of leaves

as a trail upon the

soles of his feet

windows - of winter

stone to cold

hold not quite lifeless to the

edge of dusk

in return

longer waits - for no one,

wine easy to his lips

long in sips

waits - struggling

to constrict all yearning

in his throat

quiet folds open

with the night,

quickly is black

mated with sight

and - all slow finds

rage, for a stage

who might hold open to

more then his mind,

tears lost before a find

dreams wait usually

again just to wait,

music - feels

and morning eases

till he begins to remember

to remember,

till he begins to forget

 

sands drift across his eyes

his dreams metamorphose into

a fog of visions

as only late into the night

will he care to

stand naked - before a mirror

framed of wood and age

a stage upon the tips

of his fingers

a rage upon the sips

of his finds -

across an autumn trail

to what avail - for the

vision of himself outstretched

and naked

alone deep into

the night

,

a candle aflame - he turns

with his shadow

itís legs - as sticks of fire

reaching nowhere,

into nowhere

adrift

his fingers reaching,

but blind

except

for what illusive visions

retain.

- jude

 

 

 

shadows to what!

what,

shows in the windows

of torn ageless rites

across the vision

of a

black eyed woman

bare winter earth

frozen to footprints

mark a tired face

whose trace echoes into nowhere

crossed by, broken stick

revisions

divisions always of

tomorrow and tonight

simple delight

in

the screams of electric lights

to - into

all the shadows - such derision

creates,

silent rage is to,

becomes an open stage

where who in what is a woman

decides -

passing what remains of all decisions

a sound of her

voice - echoes

still between

tonight and tomorrow

today in reflection of

shadows to what

for,

characters without a name

for characters upon her

fingertips who - wane

before the crossing

of the moon

for, what she gives away

never so easily stays

she sees - vague

images

across stark winter

 

through a window

fogging easily

from an inarticulate

heat

a smile from nowhere

demands offered with

expectations while a cross

metal in age

fall shadow upon only

her name -

somewhere within

her never refrain.

- jude

 

 

 

the walking edge of anywhere

i cry mornings to sleep

in tired eyes - who

canít quite find the

care to - care to wake.

-

i lie still - in gray time light,

winter holds hard through

somewhere lost behind

windows

to catch images

of long dreams

dreamt yet not

easy in alone

simple exceptions unsung

between the hands -black

hands of a clock

long to lie - ticking on itís side

marking time unheard

upon skin, within

,

adrift -

still from somewhere

adrift;

i alone -

across the street-light shadows

of trees - a colorless mist

of rain

and night

till movement is but

the walking edge of

anywhere -

circles roam and move out,

to run into oneís ageless

philosophies of yester-year

no one in there

shadows, but i

,

a poetís line moves to create

and illusion manifests

where - no one sees

where no one even

believes -

 

where stands a moment

between steps

only i

in silence - still with the

moment

wonder even motions to

disbelieve

insanity questions

and yet

,

loses to the farce

of a poet -

eternally within the mists

of creation

but a voice where none

may hear -

alone with a question of rain,

wetting the motion of

my fingertips

as within a wetted black street

lies the sky - am i ...

- jude

 

 

 

between memory and quiet

snow water upon grass and

concrete

i watch the fill of cold on night

a moon reaching to full

almost,

reflects illusion to a naked

black sky

and from an unwatched open hand -

mine

drifts away - easily away

all the reasons why!

my eyeís glow hard blue

mirrors into free

while the wind blows

out long - my hair

towards - trees

who bend stark,

not quite naked

in the sky

i stand in the fall of shadows

between memory and quiet

i stand still, night quivers

sharply against the open

break of day -

i look to the sky for the

continuance on shadows

in the mark of clouds

i watch a stain upon

concrete -from

far away

scarlet rags wrap moments

of warmth about my neck

a frozen tear shatters in

the wind - before ever

it reaches the ground

 

a moment, soundless,

in which

i lean heavily against a brick

wall -

something falls from my fingers

who no longer feel

hopeless as tired -

it is backing

towards home - a direction -

un-sudden my movement

i move

my tears remain spread out

in clear

within the sky

i turn dreamless

warmth upon warmth

wrapped within my quilt

nameless behind nameless walls

and only remembers the wind

my name -

for such that nothing

in reason - is the same

for such that no one

in reason - remains the same

?

or where...

- jude

 

 

 

behind a bathroom door

nothing quiet

in nothing standing said

what form takes life

what is the form of, whatís dead

tired in sighs across

her open face

lines to mark a trace

her hair, pulled taught somewhere

behind a bathroom door

lines searching for lines - there

below her eyes

silken tries and / tears who echo

quietly, for

who is left as - what is wrong?

a song echoes - ice and form

she lies full in the edge of

my arms -whatís wrought

between craving and sleep

what deeply colored rhyme

sings wordlessly without -

her name lies

carried openly in a winterís

frozen concrete

wrapped in scarlet and sleep

what more, is water

but forever the same -

deep into all - to love

that reaching call

death is a card

divined from her pocketed fingers

roaming just beyond the edges

of all whatever here -

 

i try to hold her in something said

but where turns life

as/ what wordless dead -

what fears of good-byes play

as ice to break form

her eyes are tired, in distance

seeing - what,

she stands shadowed

by lace - scarlet

is an echoing trace upon her skin

in a mirror

she faces her self

and she wanders

to me

as she wanders away

is it something her

fingers

will never sing

for love or fear of;

death -

and / all the rest - we walk along.

- jude

 

 

 

a cross between seasons

who donít you know me

a cross between seasons

and seed

she grew tired - and leaves me

nameless as something within, she

is on the wire to run

nothing lies still - so simple

or/ where does she live to ignore

,

where does one say, hello,

where does one say - but

good-bye

can she ever pass the

edge of try as easily she

wanders long about

the length of her hair

water is running - cold

against her feet

sand is black

and holds no face for retreat - ?

- jude

 

 

 

between time and eternity

almost noiseless,

wearing the shadows of

darkened streets

and winter blows harsh through

her - her thin legs

name her on no trail

streetlights treat to her

the eyes of illusive requests -

moving,

as if for anywhere

and yet full hair

breaks open for a wind moment

and / her eyes - an unknown

blue

shape black, solid and deep

a question on the full edge of pain

quotes -

we clash between an alley

and an open street

retreat plays through

her fingers

as they hold anew

onto my arm -

and silence holds

cold names ever still

to the rage of concrete winds

entwining our legs -

in a room of shadow light

i watch her across the

bend - of a candleís flame -

wine coats my throat warm

her hands lie still

upon themselves to her face, pulled

forward by the scalp tying of her hair -

her eyes lie blindly

into the

wondered warmth of mine

silence leans close to her lips

as each sip of her wine seems to

touch close to me -

an unpracticed guitar plays

the walls about us - from

a form - pitted

 

unseen behind a pole

behind her back -

she rests strangely at ease

as if her world holds no

surprises

her breasts - in color and line

lean sharply against the inside of

her blouse -

their quest, seeing to the rest

open her each breath, out

between our eyes -

a time dilation

and her hand in

mine drops colorless tears -

and /

as she sleeps beside me

late upon a blackness warm

found -

i lie - ever in my stillness

wandering - aloneness eternal

wandering -

mirrors of form

lie solid as the full hair of her

pelvic -

time slows - her arms as mine

are the rhyme of shape

for all that feels

as her fingers asleep against my skin,

wandering into an ageless night

i swim - alone

though alone into a pure black -

she lies as earth

color warmth

/ i lie - but to the wind

and i scream for the edge of

sand

with just my fingers grasping

blindly behind me

to the feel of her silence

between time and eternity,

alone ...

- jude

 

 

 

fire within a crystal wind

and where stands of in the void

an assist of ití silent waiting,

windless air frozen in

there -

where am i, on the edge

of this mirror

i know too well -

along a walk of hard movements

unfelt -

silent whispers i exchange with fallen

leaves - their range of color

now held closed

by the fingers of a crystal wind -

but a fire within a crystal wind

edges in -

as i exchange my screams

toward the carvings within, still

trees -

packed and frozen across my knees

i turn my head

towards - of where

nowhere is -

crystallizing fire through my eyes

winter holds to me

ití distance hard

time in long

patched empty to be seen

for all that i mean -

i wander

and rhyme

loses - frozen flakes

dance upon an

irrational rhythm -

all reflections - as fire

within a crystallized

wind -

- jude

 

 

 

black window train

black window

train - stay

what, in back of care,

going

along to somewhere

black rails

running trails

to but what avail

reflection in a running glass

tired in face

and morning has gone

time in less

as wind, silently moving on

what care - doesnít

dare to go

an acre of nowhere

in a traveling find

slow;

- jude

 

 

 

for a quiet smile known

in like fire

so scarlet the attire,

a burnt auburn

sigh

hard at quiet upon

a winterís turn

behind a quiet scream

long eyes,

smile somewhere

my fingers touch

into the

surrealistic warmth

of snow -

in white.

- jude

 

 

 

and shadows wait

drift - in, it is water

simply cold air

holds waiting -for snow

screams

long dreams cast emptily across

the dry palms of

my hands,

ageless clouds pass across

blue in statement

still

but what

there is noise edging silence

time colors what find to be

off,

i ride what strand of

sanity

long inside - who or what

wordless voices whisper

leaves dry into the earth

below the living,

of naked trees

adrift

before the snows call

the dance of forms

torn - alone

a world in solid

passes through the

shadows of my fingers

lingers elusive

i drift - a snow shadow

full of winter stain

refrain sings on - a

yesteryearís phase

locked across the broken lights

of tomorrows

,

and shadows wait.

- jude

 

 

 

sand beneath her fingernails

sand unseen beneath

her fingernails - to what avail

doesnít she know

darkness falls early

closing quiet a world

she couldnít name

alone

sleep seeps - easy

she curls tight while a

loose finger plays rhythm

across her thigh

little is said,

for what is alive or dead

morning has wed her to

an ancient fall - voided memories

merely remember

so small the wooded room

and smooth, lies a layer

of dust

her eyes glaze

against a quest for

any name of more

in concrete

has edged her name

while all the ice against

her window remains,

all the same

black snow on black fields,

remember before her

when her hair grew

naked and was felt

with a deep breath

water across her nakedness

waited for no tub

born in silence

she lost her name

into all the faces of sound

sand beneath her fingernails,

forgotten

to the mourning of black...

- jude

 

 

of ghost sips

hey, mister paper

remember me

dare you to take a chance,

to dance

and somewhere into now,

see me

windows hold as walls,

as ice speaks all their names

full, in frozen call

in refrain - what motion

knows

in a treeís nation,

what stains

my eyes grow deep in their

eternal darkness - as i fall

into a void behind mirrors

ah! for the mirrors who lie

so tired of tying empty reason

to exclaim in freedom upon

an open - domain,

iron gates, i watch as

slowly they close upon the

distance of my full run

in a world without

name

adrift - black snow

growing from

without the sky

a tear still lies

ice

across to the edge of my feet

a tear still lies

ice

across to the edge of my lips

long i stand

hard to the touch

of ghost sips

my eyes drip red

blood wed,

into the morning!

- jude

 

 

 

the frozen sand of a mirror!

i place myself

to the within, of a photograph

easy, is my hair loose

to the fall of autumn

echoes in a rage of silence

marks - distance to the

backdrop of a

river - rushing

turns through wind weeping trees

i am still between

the present and a name,

called on distance

long hair lies as myself

a cross tossed to the wind

between

my eyes - blue-black,

and an eternal size

of time edging

on color - and almost

winter dreams,

i stand against my

own face - tracing outlines

into the winds

of tomorrow

and when do i feel

nothing breaking,

nothing real - scarlet soft,

lies upon the palms

of my hands

where have i sent

off free - my fingertips

my hands lie hard against

the frozen sand of

a mirror

my tears ache for movement

for the run of

freedom - between

wind and / sand

to withstand all

the edging of tomorrow

i lie my fingers into this photograph,

and scream...

- jude

 

 

 

tears blurred against a mirror of now

and if anything is

to be said,

writing unknown

phrases from,

ancient words

sweat empowered nakedness,

slipping into the side

of midnight

sleep, not quite deep enough,

memories - swarm

into a crack of sun

my skin trembles ever so

slightly

far into an ocean of boulders

rock form - as, water storm

slow mountain is grown

out above me to rise

hard wind lives off itís

sips of me

i break for distance,

as i shake with me,

death breaks as

freedom,

silence is a shadow torn

and how can

i remember

a name - whose face

is too ancient

to retain

pie squared within a mirror

vague present into

waves of sight

itís movement is who sews

tomorrow

tight between my fingers

who;

grope - ever tired, toward

freedom

to wind refrain - and...

- jude

 

 

 

of a fleeting wind

heavy with sleep and dreams

unspoken designs of feel,

tie me to a lack of movement

against a morningís rise

silence echoes quickly back

onto me

somewhere was i

entering into the tears

of faces nowhere near,

clear as liquid upon

my fingertips

are trees who weep for more

somewhere alone,

and tired - of voids

i am in rewind

to all the emptiness in dying

and little more across the

side of earth

her eyes - a child never vague

from a face, i can

never know

but for whispers,

of all i travel across black

in full hands - who

might never come

back.

in a canvass sack

i scream into a soundless

remind,

too tired for empty

tomorrows

too tired for voiceless

days

an echo,

of a fleeting wind

etches her fingerprints

deep into my eyes

while strain reminds

of good-byes

 

and so!

goodbye,

i love you

; words what never

do they mean

or so,

never just goodbye,

: all within the minutes

of a morning,

as i try to wake -

- jude

 

 

 

untitled

i remember,

a run

in full flight eternal

i matched movement

how simply with just

movement

how quiet did lie my screams

as - i offered them full

reign - or without a

name

how breaks water into time

and all echoes play out

their time

simply what is real

on,

what left is

there or i to feel

snow ever off the ground

in a moment with sand

i stand - on a

moment

holding my hand

within mine,

a find fades

evades - till i remain

as blue ice on the

edge of the world

holding a fall,

i stand -

- jude

 

 

 

of black stone

a whisper in talking blues

a whisper,

through a dark corridor

walk,

somewhere between

eternity and the back of

my sleep

torn sheets

and closed down streets,

mark the ages

of time and defeat

my feet naked

walk their prints

below - the motion of an

ocean

or yet where i remain

i wake with sunlight

and tears - on the crystals

of my dreaming

i wake to a voice screaming,

to a face

in time and time away

creation in a poetís try

for all the more who lives

in the crevices

of black stone

free - though silent in their

rhyme

i blank into the directed stare

of a world - known to itís

own loving

and all their tears of age

never seeing me cry

for, but - never

do i walk with tears

but die the

years of creation and /

loss!

- jude

 

 

 

ballerina dance!

so close

behind the shadows

below her eyes

where hasnít she

tried to run

anymore

a small dancer

so cold, frozen

into the face of,

too white - a wall

marks the wind

run motion, behind the back

of her hair

into where - now dreams

ice - frozen blue,

more then a woman

in silent screams

your body - fears

as silence remembers

that dance against freedom,

named once and, love

a poetís demands

reached the scarlet seams

of your soul

sold?,

and now how ever cold.

winter watches you through

open windows

as you watch back,

unmoving upon a wall

and so easily afraid of the

mornings - which eternally wake

for the sake of

the leather flesh

of a man

oh! and dressed

so fine

for a ballerina must dance.

 

seen as the edge of

your skin

within a poetís eyes

a free form, in silent rage

upon, so closed that

open stage

i cry my tears to the silent rage

of your breasts,

never held

across the open

pattern of

in dance,

ballerina dance!

- jude

 

 

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