Tag Archives: Dusty

Window Drops (day 2171)

Along the ways of window drops
A bird flew out the nest
Cloud came to my very door
And my hair lay flattened down.
Yet every signal
East be at it’s back
Signaled me to rise above
What midnight I had not looked back.
Nor did my animosity
Rumble to a stop
A grinding halting dusty jalopy
My chariot of grim time.
True, each dirt splash lay bare
The deeper grit of sand
Which held my flower to my nose
Thus, bow down low I dearly bade.

Moon at Midnight – Part I (day 1975)

There was no moon at midnight
And my road was clambering on
I saw what appeared to be shadows
But from what direction I could not see the source
Nor could I understand their movement
For my breath was beating strongly
Inside my mind that couldn’t sit still.

They say whenever you’re lonely
To hug a tree in the woods,
That everything will be better
Once you listen to the wind through leaves.
But my footsteps weren’t taking me there
My trees were full of eyes
That growled when I got too close
My fire had died down to a whisper
Which danced away upon every breath
That beat so wildly inside.

I tried turning my back to the fire
So I could let my eyes adjust to darkness
Cold dampness swept into my chest
That left my fingers clinching at the dirt
I sat cross-legged on ash
That was surely trying to make it’s way
Up the inside of my leg
Like slowly crawling worms
With no direction home.
My fingers felt like dust
Long gone into a night with no end.

Slowly my eyes began to make out a hue of indigo
Through the trees that crept ever closer
With a faint scent of a silhouette
That began to sing me a song
Reminding me of Joan Baez singing acapella
Which always led me to Bob Dylan
And one of his nearly alarming harmonica solos.
Stars began to blink at me
Through gusting fog that sped
As fast as the dying harmonica sounds.

I could begin to see markings
Upon the bark of the nearest Douglas Fir trees
Bark so thick that my hands impulsively
Rubbed each other
Acutely feeling dusty skin on the back of my hands
As life began to seep back into them,
Shocked one too many times
From the dark night that lay behind.

I pulled my wool blanket closer
Remembering I am a warrior
I am made of two hard feet
That carry me on through a winding
Needle covered path
Weaving past lagoons and over boulders
Over roots and upon grass
Sometimes lost and always home
And rusty feathers settled beside me
Wishing me goodnight, so I fell asleep.

part II

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Rolling Along (day 1941)

A long way from home
And two coyotes howl into the night,
Pale moon’s looking me in the eye,
And I don’t got no campfire going tonight.

A saddle’s a lonesome companion
But this trusty steed’s sure good to me,
Four hooves and a long mane
And my dusty trail goes on.

A valley’s spread is my eager eye
Around every cresting corner,
Naming trees and flicking bees
And I’m just rolling along.

Footsteps (day 1926)

Let me go there
Without the torment
Of a rising sun, low
Crowded dusty road
And I’m swimming
Way out past my soul.
One day I’ll be there
A small lineup with a ten
Guardian on the rise
And I’m seeing signs
With footsteps leading in.

Rib Cage (day 1809)

She’s become a rich thud
On the inside of my stiff rib cage,
A desert dweller
Wrapped in a long scarf
Elegantly colored
But wind torn.
Her footsteps stretch from
Slightly blurry horizon lines
To a place not far from me,
Not too close.
One step behind
One step ahead.
So the dust rolled on
And my footsteps I would have liked
To trace back my heart steps
Casually covered over
With waves I vaguely recognized,
Which feigned my heart
Like a sticky leaf
To the inside of my rib cage.

Toughness (day 1752)

What a long, dusty road it becomes
As I snake my cool eyes towards limitless skies
And bull horns I’ve worn well
Emanate a toughness
I don’t want to carry anymore.

Another Day (day 1721)

I am a little sentiment
Of ever growing resentment
Lost in a pond of gray
I’ve floated off on another day

But if you walk with me a while
I’ll show you how, erstwhile
I was once a former self
Lost amidst a dusty shelf

Practicing Wizardry (day 1569)

Wizards are taking turns cracking whips at higher shelves,
A lost umbrella serves as a dusty stepping stone.

When did he ever know his heartache?
A landslide, at the base looking up standing tall.

Can the old boys help anybody now,
Since there’s a guardian knocking all them down?

There’s a wild side whenever anybody’s holding on,
Take a look now, tomorrow’s rhythm of any song.

Inner ambition’s little sister came to say hi amongst terrible rubble.
She cried big elephant tears until socks upon giants grew ears.

Dusty sorts, way up there, but important bits reside beyond the whip,
Enough so, that a lazy angel has taken it to be her resting place.

Leather bound and locked without a lock.
Page four houndred and seventy three.

Journey’s End (day 1559)

A road as a passing song
Carried our fearless warrior on,
Deep as a jungle far
A dusty trail,
Hidden but not gone.
When the road turns its wiles away
Heavy hearts jump and start to say:
“Adventure is this that we have,
One and all, to journey’s end!”
So press on forth
Deepness within,
Make passion journey’s begin.

Grandfather’s Shop (day 1557)

A sentence was all I wrote
On a dusty pad of paper
Laying on the old workbench
Inside my late grandfather’s shop.
I knew he was still around there,
He spoke to me in hanging machine parts
Scattered about full walls.
Then I whispered goodnight
And turned down the lights
Making sure the heavy door
Was shut the way he’d shown me how.

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