This cold landscape bellows,
Blowing endlessly
With a high pitched wallow
And I am not a voice in it.
No animated gust of white dust,
No longing wave of seed heads bobbing,
No tall tree, naked and exposed
Arms wide open
Awaiting for the sun.
This cold landscape bellows,
And I sit in isolation
Completely enveloped
By a drawn sensation.
Dampness smouldering the fire
As snow melts to ice I sit upon,
And the red tinge of frozen willows
Keeps this glowing fire
I have not set.
It is not for the beat of my drum
It is for the beating of the sun
Cooked in red/yellow rays
Reminding me of an old letter
That came in the mail
Holding three dried rose petals
And one single ring
Caressed in my worn hands
Like a mother would
On the day that love did win
That shall come to pass.
In a screeching halt
The red tail swept in
Wings flashing
Gray and black
And a golden brown
Of its vibrant tail
Left me speechless
As I watched.
So mysterious,
So close to home,
So brave in its approach.
Then just as quick
Off in flight
Those big wings began to wave
Elegant and smooth
Like a ballroom dance
Off, beyond my sight.
I’ve unlocked the post of my field
The damn bookend that holds the seal
Has gone away with the morning hues of red.
I walked out into the winter storm
To feed the animals inside of me
A broken button healed my heart
And two burners boiled my water.
So just as my ticker has begun to tock
I’m whispering my odes to oaks,
I’m dressed in my Sunday best
To forget the truth of tomorrow.
As if the earth could ever see
Darwinian modes of ease
To see a leaf upon a tree
Blowing about the stem
Back and forth with every grace
A dance I could never trace
Delicate as a flower in bloom
Tough as nails that close a tomb
To anchor a setting sun
Upon the branch that bursts the buds
Then grouping in a seasonal array
One of Summer’s finest delights
That change the landscape one dare not stop
For as the bud shifts to a stem
Stem to a new growth
New growth takes the sprint of life
To bursting red and orange and brown
Then in one last graceful dance
A leap too good for chance to take
Downward left to fall away
Death pose into finale.
I took the worms
That had begun to gather around;
Flesh eating
Blood suckers,
Lost in red velvet feelings.
I took them to mass
Where we prayed for health
Like sordid strangers
Walking along
Black and white city streets.
I took them with me
For I had begun
To understand them
As they wriggled
Turned over in ecstasy
Amidst and amongst themselves
And beside me.
Speak to me
Brush aside my wisdom
For I am open to your heart
I call Red
But listen in Brown and Gray
And there shall be no mistake
For I am here
So speak to me
Sky has turned on me
I awoke to a burning red
Dazzling my imagination
As fire so transfixes thoughts.
Then Rain began
Challenging my scales
Peaceful summer breeze
Turned torrential squeeze.
I closed the book of a window
To still my worried mind
Losing my touch
With Reality’s closest neighbour.
I’m not sure how this thing Time has passed
It seems like I just awoke
With little birds singing harmony
To the morning’s sky, so red.
Hardly had I time to think
About the tasks awaiting,
Hardly had I recited my praise
For ever blooming life
Unfolding it’s very wings
Right beyond my window.
It was not my claim,
Not could it ever have been
To be lost with controlled madness
On a motorcycle
Going fifty kilometers per hour.
The roads were too dusty,
Too slow,
Too quiet for forgiveness
To be called out
In a manner that did not support
Each dying ember of humanity.
And the glasses were of the new world,
A signal for misunderstanding
– Modern mythological errors
Combed with a brush of the future.
I merely sat there,
I did not dust off the seat
I did not wear deceiving clothes
I did not paint my hair black
Or red or green or blue,
And my wings ever grew
Until I no longer sat alone
Accompanied by history untold
That whispered flickers
Of a language with no words
To my clouded eyes
Laid bare.
