dead brain... too much comic writing...

Could we imagine for a minute
a place cut out of time
where there was another story,
before it was washed away with turpentine.
There were thoughts and there were songs
and someone blew ash into the air.
It carried on the wind and landed
far away off in the over there.
Something sat on the west side,
while there was nothing to the east,
and Fate sat and decided
who she liked the least.
While it turned over to the other
making circles in the sand
sending ripples through the water
cutting wrinkles in her hand.
Then the sirens sounded
drawing life closer to the rocks.
They shredded souls and left alone
the ships moored on the docks.