Inside Cobwebs

I awoke with steam
Overtaking my barely opened eye
Stretched cobwebs holding
My eyelids
In a foggy embrace
That reminded me of fishnets
In tunnel vision
Locked in sweaty fantasies
Of a late night low light
Where forbidden
And forgotten
Are both flickers of imagination
And soft light
Of a golden new day
Controlled my reaching hands
To stretch across
Open areas of cobwebs
To feel around inside.

Early Morning Hour

In the early morning hour
Wind seems to lay down
Rising sun sets out to warm
Every frosty blade of grass
And when my horse is saddled up
I mount my trusty steed to roam
Every bit of our home range
To find my cows and learn the land
For my life I’m setting out
Warm coffee in the morning
Another day to go about
In this early morning hour.

Take

Take what you want
Need nothing more
For remembering
For singing song

There was no audience
No standing pride
Call of the monkey
Song of coyote

When the willow
Grows over your head
Look to the weather
Summer’s soon over

Find me in
The falling weather
Temperature dropping
Frost is coming

Always remember
Take what you want
Nothing worth calling
This singing song

Fighting For A Softer Edge

If you give me a softer edge
I will believe in your touch
For in the grasp
Of a summer day
I remember all these dreams
And I can hear the buzz
Of the honey bee
Singing in my ear.

But if the edge continues to hone
I’ll find my sharpness cutting knots
Deep within my root stricken back
Holding me to gnarly strength.

I am the fire
Should I be struck
For I awake within my heart,

I am the dirt
That crumbles with
A slipping fist no longer clenched
No longer fighting back.

Breathing Grand

It has been hard to admit
That my words have lost meaning.
Even the breath
That inhales to explain
Where my full self has departed to
Has lost its strength;
Faintly attached
With two softly drawn cords
Like a spider web
In early morning dew
(Too delicate and lost
To be trecherous and hard),
Whispers inside myself
Have fallen down.
This weakness has touched my message
– Ice crumbling at the brink of water –
So much so that my eyes
Are no longer opening
With meaning and fury
For they have bid me adieu
While rainwater is expected
To stain this grand scheme.

Distance of an Ancient Mariner (day 3223)

I have not forgotten about you
You were there
And so was I
We watched as the imaginary boats
Drifted in from an ancient time
Carrying modern culture and spices.
I wore leather soles
And dreamed of a once was place
That took my breath away
With life.
I don’t know
If I’ll ever be able to forget you
But some days I do try
So that my vision
Doesn’t remain so distant
And the calling
Of an ancient mariner
Doesn’t glance to the sea
Remembering you.

Tracks On The Road (day 3221)

The laneway smells of sweet clover
Overrun by long timothy
That soaks toes in morning’s walk
Back and forth we go.

Dampness holds its structure
Amidst low hanging overcast clouds
That have lifted only slightly
Since twilight broke them off.

Calmness awaits
Imagination creeps in
Day’s plans unfold
Tracks on the road.

Collected Page (day 3220)

My page is not full
The lateral movement
Convulsing into jagged lurches
As inspiration
Tangles its heavy hand
On each seam it finds to bend.
So this wind will blow
Until fresh songs
Dance around tempting,
Gravity and reason
Forcing their hearts
Into a dance
That my mind will swing
And remember
A collection can be so empty.