(no subject)

[silentjack]

i am illuminated by a paintbrush
stabbing me with shadow
light cascades forth in
bent rivulets from the wounds
    tracing courses from
the source and arching
through eroded landscapes
the light falls off my
ribs off my thighs off
    my eyelids and the
    rapids of my lips and
    the rocks of my fingers
the streams join with
    tributaries join with
    mighty rivers
oxbow lake kneecaps
estuary arms

the light flows forth
into the oceans of shadow
of gulfs of shallow
buildings spotted with
dust and smoke into
sounds of wan laughter
and frightened good-byes

i am exhausted of light
as the last drops take their
leave turning me orange
and now marble-brown

i am spent and used up
the world has received me in full
and passed me over as though
curiously blind

the reservoir dries up
and only somnambulating shadow
remains
    we retreat to the
insets of streets once cloaked
in unknowing into bay
windows painted over preventing
gawkers from seeking out
water
    we retreat into
a dry basin scoured by
wind polished glassy by
sands cast forth
(kicked when we're down)

the luminous show
in such thrusts and floods
is long over
    the brushes are
cleaned        the light
recedes        the gray
and smoke appears and
scatters
    ashes of a used-up vessel
that carried too much light
across the relief of
lonely canyons and
barren floodplains