I These are the grey days, The haggard days, The days of endless rain. Here tireless winds Drive blades of mist into the eyes. Here voices whisper like straw brooms On marble floors. These are the hopeless days Days found in derision, Where survival's mind Survives the present Crossing lines to cross Bridges To breath in pleasant land Of spring's flow and new sun. These are the grey days Haggard beyond expression Where images are drawn Between the hemispheres Hanging like ghosts Fading far in flames, Flames burning deep into memory. II I built my mansion And you built yours I finished my work And you finished yours. We stood in our yards Gazing at completion's work They are the same I walked through every room But there were no beds, No medals of valor. I looked from the windows There is no garden, no trees, no grass. I looked from the windows I looked at your house, your garden They are the same. I call you on the phone. You call me on the phone. I am calling you. I am calling you. And we know we will never speak. I wonder alone in the house I wonder You wonder alone in your house You wonder. Are we the same? The sun shines, the rain comes. The snow falls; the sun shines, The paint decays, the wood rots. We step outside; We know the damage I fix my house; You ignore yours. We are the same. We go inside where foot falls Sound like hammers on small blocks of wood. I find my words for you Crawling on their hands and knees. I see you leave your house Your cape pulled round like shield Against the grey days, seeking the bridge. I follow you and hand you my words Resting in a paper bag. You look me and say, "I never knew you." We are same. III Upon the darkened path I stride Again. Day comes out crime Breathing with the lost, Shooting down stars, Loveless eyes stare out, The holes in the dark. Melody measures the moment; Tired arms raise for the first. Sequenced among the many. Sequenced among the dark. Who belongs but those Who belong among One day One minute Rested upon the imagination Buried behind the clarity. Woman, your disfigurement Only marks you among the many. Many without reason Many without knowledge Many sightless witnesses Pressing ideas among The others Pressing love’s lost echoes Into cubes of doubt. IV She ran among the flowers Catching the tear drops from the petals Eyes among closure Ignoring the walls. Separating the twisting vines Separating weed from flower Separating life from others. This garden, this moment This idle thought slamming doors, Doors casting photographic fears among the garden. Not this shadow, not this time, never stopping sleepless sun from beauty. Fragile cling to fragile Pray for strong Her nights of desire Drowned outside Her nights of passion Hidden. She ran collecting tear drops from the moon's last fullness and caught her final thoughts swimming among the million swimming inside the mourning. V These are the grey days The haggard days. The days inside the void. Repetitious flames across Infinities curve, Curve infinity toward The hidden day. Waking among the many With backs turned Hoping for the turning The turning Before mansions collapse Before the darkened path appears Before the petal tears.