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Bryan John Appleby
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Looking Down at You: Bookends 1 And 2
Coming from another room The shadow of a nameless tune The simple sun is sifting through The blue smoke from your mouth
The bended chair, the wilted rug Your stubbled jaw, your pounded blood Your heavy-lidded eyes look up To find me hiding at the top of the stairs
Your frozen face, the rigid end Your parted hair and your paper skin And furrowed lines like field rows or wakes behind a stone Collected deeply cut around two eyes I tried to know And once again I'm looking down On something I don't really understand
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