Snow flies
And so shall I fly:
Stable but absent;
Nose towards sky.
White tiger
Plays softly nearby
Pine tree
Getting decorated.
I gift each breath
The bellow of my chest;
Abdomen to rumbling,
Seated like stump.
I seek nothing
And return to nowhere.
My wings of a vision
Leave me numbing home.
There’s a mountain of crows
Crawling about my mind.
Distant snowy peaks
Tall, looming firs
And the faint, eerie howl
Of the wind
Settling through furry boughs.
I dont want comfort anymore
I want slow, agonizing pain
Of cold feet and biting breath.
Let darkness fill my voids
With only the fire
Inside my eyes
Feeding the warmth.
Here, I will stack wood
Against stained boards
Of an ancient vision;
Architectures ancestor
Where notches have been worn
By our rattling wind
That kept the night
Hallowed at home.
Who do you know?
Who beckons to you
When the waves are too high,
When streetlights are few?
For in our moment
Of memory
Sweetness so delicately
Ready upon thy tongue,
Who do we know?
Who shall exalt
Our being so readily?
This is not a trail of broken hearts;
Fallen crimson rose petals
Reminding me of each cycle
Lost and reborn
Sun and moon dance.
This is a ripening and maturing
A ferment and bottle conditioned
Led by the golden tears
Of Springs fresh showers.
A frosty morning
With birds calling from branches
Yet bearing,
And a sly cat whispering:
Good day Sir, come along.
I awoke into my madness
Blind, awake
Lifeless but my breath
And all around me spanned vines
Crawling amidst my thoughts
Scaling trees
Leaving me a gnarled world
As if each fruit I picked.
Dreaming as I lay awake
Of fermented terroir
Calmly settling inside the vice
A cork upon thy voice.
Can sweet time carry a vision?
Can it send me notes?
For not too soon shall I carry home
What lay me into madness.
I’m not the beast of a nothing place
I’m rich in earth
And stoic like pine of a thousand years.
I don’t look you in the eye,
I devour your hormone
And wax upon each death of your breath.
In death, I spy;
In wind, I vanish;
In grace I am all fingertips
Touching sensitive spots
That have found their way
Into my eyes of a blank canvas.
And this is not the answer in you,
It is only the place I once knew.
You wore your hair on an unwritten novel
That was bound with your daily drawl
Mixed among the thunderstorms
Of a lonely prairie home.
Cows were milked twice a day
And dust blew into your eyes
Leaving streaks running diagonal
Across your rosy cheeks
With an agonizing look
You had long put on
Prepared for deepening silence.
A memory was your novel
That got caught up finding new verbs
For the same things you’d always done
And your hands that worked
In daily grind
With suds and lemonade
Looked increasingly like
They were forming to the job.
Why did you watch the horizon
Each day around two or three?
As dust had settled from morning’s fury
“In time for tea,” you’d say,
The milk cow, knowing nothing more
Chewed and watched you at your chore
No thought did cross it’s mind.
So sad did the lesson grow
A mind lost of ten thousand reasons
Thunderstorm in Sun’s sweet blessing
If it was not you, save pray for more
So today will sing of tomorrow
A song you knew intuitively
As cow’s milk begun to pour
And dust blew through your hair.
Sincere stars
Like each moment
Unnecessary little hearts.
Carry in a windswept
Memory,
Where’s my limit?
Gone and wrote home
Without it.
And numbers,
Many numbers,
That couldn’t count on
A passion
So I lay there
In a dreamspace
Like a memory;
Long glance.
In a moment,
In a moment
My life.
When the wind blows
I am a moment
Let me be forgotten
For I am fleeting,
Ever needing,
Ever beating
Long in the heart.
For in each moment
There is sweet passion,
No more symantics
Unending lessons
And sentences
Rapture
A long glancing star.
What is my experience
Loaded from past perceptions
Rhythm
Blood is the feeling
Dance like a zebra
A jungle in the desert
Beat ever pounding
Inward inward inward
Fading out
And lost.
There were nights
Candle lit
I miss you
Romantic deep and long steps
Within, longing
For a simple breath
In such sensitive
Delicate transmissions
Agonizingly alone
Yet fully romantic
This was the night
There.