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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “Planets Apart” Down in the Dirt (v133) (the November/December 2015 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

Order this writing in the book the Intersection the Down in the Dirt July - Dec. 2015 collection book		get the 318 page July - Dec. 2015 Down in the Dirt issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

In The Light And The Dark

Crimson Blackstone

    I wasn’t cold or unsheltered, back in the downpour,
    the asphalt split town and spilled homes,
    drowning family treasures
    Slipping under to save them, I couldn’t watch the spider gangs,
    and I backed into cracking sunlight, vulnerable to the sea’s breathing

    Sour apples’ bitter growths fermenting on the ground,
    mice cursed the invasion of their borrowed comforts in a second compressed seclusion I was reluctant to invade; had I chosen wisely, the tiny bones never would’ve cracked, and the noiseless cries and my tears, pinned to my chest, would’ve yielded room for other urgent hangings

    Blankets offered decades too late, lines passed out in both times, sucked in, evasive and misinterpreted back, whiplashed and limping through the midpoint to the reckoning; and I peered through layers that dimmed through the looking glass, applying superior magnification to the previous. I channeled through that looking glass, singeing, then burning holes through spider-ridden stores, and the mouse dying in your shadow, on the lines I swallowed when you fed your swines at will

    Why, you say, and my personal betrayer asks me in that space from which I can’t shut my mind away, and I’m stranded in old rooms with black walls, plastered in your lazy proof that I should march into colder halls and whiter walls; and still, you ask why, yet tonight, as the last, I’m trapped with false comforts, unsolicited borders, and that twinge that it’s all wrong

    Your axe bit unsteady again and brought me down, but I fell outside the redwood tops, and they’re much obliged to stand as memorial markers to dirty wheels, freezing waters in afternoon hours, and years of jack-o-lanterns that welcomed me as one of their own, within deceitful control to which I’d returned

    The swipes never quite stopped

    I’m here on the surface fighting a battle ongoing below, and there’s no chance I won’t win, and there’s no pain that’ll reconstruct my dandelion trail. I bring my own comforts and build my own borders; you won’t understand when I explain it, you’ll see only a weathered dummy meant to lose its memory to appease yours

    Pass out your leaking tokens if you insist

    In the light and the dark, I protect my dearest ones, and in ushering them away from the violet storm and traffic you summoned, I reaffirmed what I’ve always known

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