Roaming in my old soles,
Shifting with every eye.
Long horns and jet legs:
Spirit and the Darkness.
Long lasting in the dark night,
Some coming in the late sun.
Some forgetting to ever run.
In a bucket of madness
Spitting into all rocks.
Fast asleep on never gone.
Tag: sun
At Midnight (day 1224)
Fine lines that walk
Here to there,
Little devils dancing
Everywhere.
I’ve got the eyes of
A loaded gun,
Underwear and panties
Everyone.
Shiggle-bum shiggle-bum
The land of sun,
Emptiness and hollowness
Midnight drum.
Mid-Summer (day 1219)
In mid autumn I enjoy how the sun comes out
And in it’s wildest most passionate moments
It doesn’t have the all consuming power
Mid-summer sun has.
A t-shirt with an easy breeze you’re not yearning for,
But accepting – more acknowledging, with a sort of humility,
Knowing that in a few short months
The green-green vibrancy will explode
With red-orange-brown
That brings out mom’s hand-made mittens
And warm cups of tea.
An Early Autumn Memory (day 1202)
Grow grow you marvelous fruit,
Ahead of this sun and sparkling ray.
Lick the edge of my creased shoulder,
Cavernous lover, naked in Litha.
Late at Night (day 1183)
I touched her late at night
When my eyes could barely open.
A moment there when I could feel her
Like the awakening suns delight.
She whispered into my ear
With a desire no cloudy thoughts disguised,
And from this moment of light
Creeping through my mind as
Angel dust was carried lightly away,
I touched her, late at night.
My Land | Chapter XI (day 1178)
XX
Our pack of lambs had started with one ram and three ewes. Tim and Casey had mentioned they were interested in starting a herd and our land was perfect for having them graze.
The only problem we anticipated were the wolves, coyotes, and natives. I had taught Tim everything I knew about a gun, and my long barrel was always oiled.
We pooled our money from a few rabbit, beaver, bear, and wild cat pelts we had trapped on our lines over the year and the following spring I brought the four sheep home from Missoula along with the seeds for the years plant.
That was three years ago now.
I remember holding the first baby lamb in my hands the following spring and realizing that this is what starting a family was like. Something I had only a glimpse of when I was married.
I thought of how timid those first three lambs were as I would accustom them to me as I watched the wolves enjoy the summer blood soaked sun.
[note: to read the full epic track my land]
Yellow Flavored (day 1174)
I whispered to ghosts
Who sang out my name
[No more shame left in
Wooden flowerpots]
Life is a gift in
Yellow flavored
Setting sun lines.
[There is never loss]
Of cycles continued;
Webs in the wind,
Land is my name
To the edges of yellow.
Piles of Hay (day 1171)
Green green grass that pulled my eye
Away from studious pursuits,
Left me blinking beyond recognition
Against the mid-summer sun.
And ‘for too long I was bound
To be a gentleman farmer,
With two brown cows and a flock-o-chickens
To keep collectors at bay.
In my haste I left my pencils
Behind the ol’wrecked galley,
Which held my plans of adventure and folly
Through lands of foreign accents.
As Big Ben – punctual suitor a-high –
Chimed my daily ritual no more,
I whisked away the piles of hay
To woo my mid-summer sun.
She laughed at me upon her stoop
With joy only innocence can bring.
Though my knee, dusty it be
Was scraped in childhood folly,
Look here my man, in my hand
I’ve a sun and it’s even more fun.
Cowboy’s Pasture (day 1163)
Pastures I walk on
Where my window-less remains.
Crickets and butterflies,
Like this dusty ramblin-rose.
I am not a soldier,
Bandaged up and bruised,
I am a the lone cowboy
Pictured and framed.
It escapes the wild warriors
With my heart: dear, forever.
Like a copper pan at the tin store,
Stars in my campfire.
Cyclical moon which bringeth thy sun:
Boil over warm coffee.
Because I love this way,
Where my window-less remains.
My Land | Chapter I (day 1124)
There I would rush around the stone well, the little arch covering darkness and holding a squeaky bucket as it slips. I glide as the dog snarls, hovering just far enough away because it knows what’s good for it.
A deck chair squeaks back and forth like the broken weather vane whispering from the roof. I eye it slowly as sun peaks over my mystery horizon and look around for a glass to quench my thirst. Sometimes a savage I must be.
Small herds of livestock check their watches against the consistency of the grass, it’s not easy being a rambling herd. Especially in these dry times of year, especially with the river running so low.
My spurs rang through the air like the hot sun stung, not a soul around this dry place.
Cursing, I sat down at the weathered kitchen table; a hard seat and cold beans. A window and dusty particles distracting my angel heart, because I am here to love and the long coat isn’t my true calling.
I tracked like the Cheyenne, a good ghost. I could find a trail on a rock boulder. The wind spoke to me as it washed over the vista, and I was a good long shot.
[note: to read the full epic track my land]