Tag Archives: Mouth

Tightly Packed (day 2146)

I held a spoonful close to my mouth
Sips of whatever I had coming again
Tightly packed for a business trip
In a car with four doors
Fingertips and a medicine bottle
And a spoon held for too long.

Take me down a river road
Cottonwoods and wheeping willows
Blowing in the wind
Long lamented tailwind signaled
Our swift departure – forward
With an essence upon my lips
Holding on to my silver moon.

Moon at Midnight – Part VI (day 1980)

(part V)

As my footsteps changed slope from uphill to downhill
I crested into a new valley
It was a particularly notable valley cresting
For the view I was afforded stretched from tip to bow
At the far end I could see a tail of smoke rising steady
Hovering for some time at the cloud line
Making its ever looming presence felt
As I looked down and stepped between the pebbles
Dodging in and out of the single-path trail I had been following.

My memory floated back to a woman I once had known
A woman whose smile touched the very essence of a man
Changing him instantly to a friend, forever
I had last seen her walking out of the tack store
In preparation to depart with a fresh pack of jerky
And enough rice to keep me a while,
She had asked where I was off to
And I told her what had honestly come to mind
I shared with her my dream of this land
With leaves the size of a horses head
With trees that bled sugar and turned as red as wine
She looked at me and shaked her head
Scolding that all us men ever want is our devil juice
I explained to her it wasn’t so,
She smiled and knew she was scolding the wrong man
I asked her if she would like to join me
An honest man on an honest journey
To a land beyond, to the East
But she had only replied in jest
Saying: “Honey, I’ve got too many mouths to feed.”

I started at a cracking branch
To my left, not 7 meters away,
I looked and staring back at me
Was a moose, hovering way above my head
He was looking straight at me
Antlers standing so tall and proud
Chewing on a tuft of a shrub
That hung down from the left side of his mouth
He snorted softly as he stared at me
Demanding I respect his space
I nodded back, gave a grunt
And quickly scanned the nearby forest
For any signs of a calf around.

My footstep didn’t stop
Rather, they kept along the trail I went
My heart beating loudly in my cool breath
The words of many an elder echoed in my mind:
“Moose are more aggressive then bears.”
I instinctively touched the blade
That rested at my hip
Foolish to think that such a weapon
Could disengage such a large beast so strong
I couldn’t feel the beast charging
Though I looked to check just in case.

I didn’t relax until I was over the next bend
Which didn’t take long to get
The familiar sound of a creek returned to my ears
No longer wise words warning and uncontrolled heartbeat
Echoing through my every breath
I softly observed the old man’s beard
Growing thicker as I descended into the valley below
Moss crawling higher up trunks of the silent giants
Experienced woods folk always say
That the birds will all be silent when there’s a predator around
So the light whistling of the forest’s inhabitants
The unique call of a raven
Calmed my senses once again.

When I reached a small opening
I dipped my hands in and splashed the fresh creek’s water
To my face, to wash the cold sweat that had gathered
I recognized bear droppings
A short distance from where I sat to rest
Looking at least a week old now
No danger for me, at least for the present
But a sign that they are around
And perhaps some tasty berries, too.

part VII

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Down Turned Reverberations (day 1912)

You know, it’s ok.

It doesn’t matter that the sky seems to fall when you stretch your eyes wide at the beginning of a new day. It doesn’t matter that the tangle in your heart matches the tangle of your long, curly, brown hair drooping about your itchy nose as you fling from side to side with a worn out cactus shirt reaching down to the same legs you rest your morning coffee on.

I’ve found a reason that doesn’t rely on these silly momentary things. I’ve found the silk road, pock marked by moths with an unsettling history that left a lot of sad pages in the brown covered diary I’ve never re-read. I’ve begun to maneuver this silk pressing just as I would walking through busy streets or desert, dry mouthed and heart fleeting as beats reverberate off of every single thought.

It’s ok.

It’s a revolution that cannot get taken away, it’s the dull side of a newly sharpened axe. How many rows have you planted to become the star lit sky we all look up to; arms are better for hugging then the cold glass walls modern giants embed their soldiers within.

You’re not the only one with down turned memories of what we could never see, never hear, never even share from the distance we watch each other from – but our morning smells seem to remind us of nothing but the closeness we have; but evening silence is a feeling we so easily forgive.

It’s ok, and I’m never really very far.

Diamonds (day 1184)

Don’t believe forever ends
It’s a way to put it right
Diamonds in bright sunlight

And my savior sits on a weathered post
And my savior sits on a weathered post

A toothless grin I cannot see
Holds my left hand agape
A maker for my extra parts

And my savior sits on a weathered post
And my savior sits on a weathered post

Bending my will to fit your skin
Wrapped around with blood and sin
Design a hungry bird’s mouth

And my savior sits on a weathered post
And my savior sits on a weathered post

Spilt Blood (day 741)

You had me in your charms before
When you desired me in your mouth
Locked me with your legs around
Between plans: a desired future

Swimming was I here
Ignoring sharks nibbling my toes
I tucked in the corners
Stuffed coffee with brown sugar

When the aphrodisiac kicked in
I was helpless to your gin – sin
Locked into waning hours in delight
That spilt my blood upon good hands

Then danced I to the sounds above
Culling my mind: ease into dinner
For racked I was in love and lust
Desperate to grow; forever to learn

So I yelled into a hallow bowl
Shed tears soiling silken scarves
Pulled my hair in ghastly chunks
Went to sleep in a bed of thorns – crowns

But now I cull the passing strangers
Purge them with eyes of daggers
Pour my soul into mason jars
Erase words before they’ve spoke