fallslikesnow

The Face If we could tear down the sky like the cheap Drapery it really is we would see All these things and more, but behind it all, We would see a face - huge, asymmetrical Broken like a boxers at careers end Eyes red with blood, blurred with tears, filled with rage Look from a face like an ancient mask of Terracotta, cracked by time, unglazed Dusty red, wet lips move, slow syllables Make out the word of unmaking, one word An eon, a mad god unwinds the threads that Hold together the world behind the sky

The Machines In other places hidden by the sky There were cascades of machinery Turned, powered by paddles pushed by super- Sonic waterfalls, pistons and cogs moved Together in relays as long as A continent, as high as a house. engines That carried coils of data upward to The inaccessible peaks where, under Loops of light, reality becomes real And flows downhill in vast cataracts to Infect worlds below with consistency

The Cities There were cities up there, intricately Carved into living rock, up and down a Thousand feet, fifteen feet deep, elegant Homes, one room after another, shallow Caverns containing formal gardens, scents Of mountain flowers drifting over rocks that Were encrusted with lichen, pale gray, rose Red grey, washed out pastels against the Dark grey of the rock, there were farms, six inch Wide terraces of pounded rock mixed with Excrement. There were vertical hunts for Nests of giant birds or the lizards of The High Cliffs where loops and curtains of light Crash against jagged black rocks forever

The Cliffs There were cliffs so high they curved above us Striped with geology so old, so rich It had no names, not even those of the Miners who died in the winding holes they Dug into the cliff walls, holes to the sky Rapidly closing as the rubble falls Behind the miner who looks over His shoulder, drops his pick, sees darkness fall And outside, on the cliff face, another un-named dot appears, revenge of the cliff

The Sky Those who love the azure sky, beautiful Limitless, a place for the soul to play Should know that the sky they see is a lie A cover for the glories behind, that The horizon is too low, a jagged Cheapened line carrying far too much Sky, far too much weight, unlike the past