We whisked away the midnight danger
Upon a solemn sleigh,
A hoof and breath,
A peak and trough,
Heaving the way we went.
I cannot say how long we sat
Being our beasts poor burden,
But alas, upon the valley floor
Ahead of us lay,
Amid deep nights deeper darkness,
A silhouette I knew familiar,
What any visitor could barely distinguish as
Our humble home to which we owed
Warm nights, forevermore.
Tag: home
Forecast (day 1646)
This is the forecast
Slipped on the sunlight
And landed on a wave.
We carried emotions
In rainy weather shadows
And in half of a heartbeat
Hope came and held up a chance.
Secrets were too softly;
Heartache came too lightly;
If I was a preacher I’d have
Called the kids all home.
Crispy Wallows (day 1593)
Crispy wallows and snakes following ancient trails down spirals, leading only to a perfectly spherical, blood-moon-packed dirt bubble where one thousand and one perpendicular lines scarred concave smoothness, remarkably resembling an eerie odessical scene of Labyrinth, David Lynch infused simplicity and snakes. With an omnipresent light leaving no shadows, even in such depths, that echoed with every heartbeat snaking it’s way downward, downward, downward until the downward was no longer downward but stuck in a simple sphere, simply circled as if snakes and ladders were suddenly trapped in an empty crystal ball bubbling with misunderstood and toppled (read:shook) reason that inhabitants were too impatient to digest, leaving perpendicular marks in frightened terror as retraced steps traced their snaking along ancient trails back into the under-root of an atmospheric tragedy they had become familiar with and called home.
Search O’Er Lain Land (day 1590)
Glen to glen
I’ve wandered brooks
Searching for my
Crag with a hook
Little, though
My hearts dismay
Could effort swing
Precipice lay
For o’er lain land
My hoof she ran
Like orphaned seeds
Autumn’s light breath
Dagger be given
To the laughing lady
High atop as a
Clever tight rock
For no path could be laid
No gorge to ford
No eye to twinkle
Amidst sun-lit wrinkle
Now guide thee home
Pulse in thine known
I hear the clean broom
And dear Mother’s boom
Traces (day 1581)
Stunning,
So I didn’t walk home alone.
A long song
To which I moved along.
Movement was the story I wrote
With my fountain tipped pen
Of legs
Of limbs
Of your traces left upon my skin.
Return (day 1528)
Return my mouth of suffering;
Return to a place where a brook lightly flows,
Where footsteps – delicately laid –
Digress with foggy mountain hillsides
Tangled deep amidst rose bushes,
Willow whips, cedars wide and pine needles fallen.
Return my mind to awake and aware,
Where fluttering wings present
Gusts of wind amidst tiny chatter from illustrious nutcrackers.
Return me to my home –
Nestled among wild things,
For ohana lives there.
Namaskar, Namaskar, Namaskar.
Long Drive (day 1506)
You were a long drive
Along an empty highway
Through Boise, Idaho
At a quarter after 10;
Cool night air flowing in,
Rock music flowing out.
You were coming home tonight
But you’re not coming home tonight.
You are the noisy lily-pond
As stars sing out goodnight.
Long drive rolling home.
Willow (day 1505)
Memory lays on a dry river bank
Willow crawling aggressively.
Irregular splashing, unlike the seas of home,
But just as wet
As if nothing has changed
Since that day we went home.
Fix a Heart (day 1496)
Did I turn my heart around?
Did I let it lay me down?
Did I voyage, far, across this world
To be my Maiden’s crown?
One could surely fix a heart
Upon a stone so sound;
Let it beat, unto the end!
A thousand kingdoms strong.
And if dark night should come upon
A light that was so bright,
We’d know it as the beacon so
That guided us onward home.
To look upon the sheets so clean,
The pearls so radiant!
A lover who had never shied,
Never chance nor desire to lament.
For as my edge of feelings sought
The tender touch of her wings,
Supine be my heart for her,
My lover’s breath always unspent.
Floating Home (day 1493)
I am floating as if observing
And not returning home.
I am a ruffling cloud nearing dusk
Upon a serene and hot evening
At the lake smelling like campfire.
I am nonsense trickling off into night
In rattles and clacking,
As lonesome restlessly lays naked
Aside discarded sheets
And a light layer of sweat.