Slave’s Still Fight

I am immense
And stuck
And broken in my battle;
Giants tearing trees
And Titans throwing boulders.

How do I convey my meanings
When I am unreasonable
Living inside a dream
Of everyone’s meaning well.

Does my habit become your habit?
Do I lose myself into you?
Does my soil sprout many plants?
Can I hope to grow with you?

For my beast of rage
Within my deep breaths
Is evermore, everclear,
And hoping for more tomorrow
For my heart fights back
My heart fights for freedom
In a change
That cannot grow faithfully
To the slave of a great wrong.

Time Spells by Fragments

Time has begun to fragment:
Lost time, woven time
Shared time, alone time.
Time better spent,
And time well spent.

Time’s fingers tap
My beat
And scratch raw
Skin beneath my beard,
Transfixed upon
Scaling multiples
Woven as fabric
That erases
What was written
Upon Season’ blackboard.

Yet still,
No time spell has taken
My tomorrows
Nor my todays,
Just my dreams
– Idle as I may exist.
Time shifts
And I shift
Though no spell broken
Save that of waking
Amidst time’s fragmented
Importance
And I, lost
Spending my time well.

Not Spoken

I’m not spoken anymore
Dried in a bottom of dust
Let my soul sing
With fire sparks tonight
Can’t I get along alone
For Coyote whispers
And Dog whispers back.

Forget every song
I’ve written all wrong
Glory and frail,
Perfect and undone
Startling morning sun
My breath: heavy hung
For Coyote whispers
And Dog whispers back.

Empty this bucket
Lost in a sea
Between footsteps
Greeting me
And it’s dark
Close my eyes
To forget
For Coyote whispers
And Dog whispers back.

Stoic Beast

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.

Deepening

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.

Into the Rain

This smoke and mirrors
Is my pain
As I walk in your memory
I fall alone
On unspent words
My hair,
Lifelessly pressed
Against the glass.
I’ve learned about my veins
That run across
My open palms;
For too long have I
Looked into thee
For an answer
I cannot find.
And so my last drip of blood
Drawn from me
For you
Shall stain the soul
From whence I came
And follow me
Into the rain.

Why Didn’t I See Your Eyes

Why didn’t I see your eyes?

Still I tried
For this vision I haven’t found
And your browns, greens,
Forever changing
As landscape’s seasons change
And my footsteps
Through my soul’s golden copse
Recapturing.

Why didn’t I see your eyes?

Even though my feet are as tired
As cobblestoned history,
Gray hair grows upon my patience’s mind
Though burdened with none but thoughts
It is mine golden copse
Retiring into my hallow
That comforts even in
My burning question’s fever.

Why didn’t I see your eyes?

Taken

What takes you away?
What brings the lines
From bowels to forehead,
And understands nothing
Of what’s seen before you?

What holds you
Like a scarf on a cold subway
Clicking away
In a nice rattle
Of destination approaching?

What holds time so still
That a lifetime is lived
Experienced
Played
And given
With a softly exhaled breath
Standing atop
Naked and pointed?

What holds you steady
So that even rainbows don’t move
As you traverse this landscape
Narrowly escaping
A landslide of memories
Nobody told you to write down?