Yet

radiating brilliant silhouette
against hard liquid dark flames
his memory fades to cinder
splotch
tarnishing the snow seas
watching the wind minions
carry it–wet–away
to where the soul is camoflauged
hidden amidst the black ransacked
desert

lone self exiled pedestrian
martyrs in hammocks
in turbans
urbane and turbid
gesticulating wildly
and never stop pontificating from atop
the box of soft quick sand stoned
faces solemn and far gone
plastic mystique
a gasping prayer
acsending and dropping
back like acid rain
in their gaping spiral eyes
ties like umbilical bridles
long severed
long sequestered
not yet new
not yet young
not yet old
not yet come
nor gone