Every image carries the means of resurrection
The reams of recollections pour forth unabated
Light and darkness equally weighted, sincere
That the reappearances were unplanned, more
By chance, and happenstance than any more
Furtive or regurgitative motive, voted in by
Darker knights, or prevailing queens, scenes
Of love, and lore, and lust before the cusp of
Nightfall called again, for fear of falling rain
The pain is covered with just enough green
Tarpaulin to turn the nosey parkers rolling back
Stacked up against the often, slow-played, refrain
The midnight train, to nowhere more than images
That flash by, for girls that cry, and boys so sly
Going away to that land of evermore, to score the
Fateful wonder why, trying, dying for introspection
As if their correction could be found on rails that
Run underground, that sound out the steelwork
Echoes, the ghettoes of the fathers past, the last
Night at the proms, the Strombolian sailor boy
Who casts out, with a faded shout; land ahoy, decoys
Are everywhere, however deep the stare, or quick
The glimpsing of ships that passed in the night
Tighter now, shedding plight of previous owners
Condoners of the ugly sins, loans made within
To souls that have fallen into disrepair, fearful of
Their dereliction of duty, and absentmindedness