At 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.

Sombre Howling (day 3147)

There’s a cool cloud
Hovering around today
It’s sinking in with a density
That fogs the brain
Into thinking darkness
And hardness
Is the souls responsibility
To bare time out here
Like a grown man
And in the cool whisps of mist
The rifle cackle
Of a far off mystery
Stirs the dogs
Into a sombre howling.

Sombre Howling (day 3133)

There’s a cool cloud
Hovering around today.
It’s sinking in with a density
That fogs the brain
Into thinking darkness
And hardness
Is the souls responsibility
To bare time out here…
Like a grown man.
And in the cool whisps of mist
The rifle cackle
Of a far off mystery
Stirs the dogs
Into sombre howling.

Soon Spring (day 3117)

The weather is confused right now.
Gray skies are followed by white lies
That melt away into the pools,
And trees look like they’ve begun
To shoot their buds and grow.
But freezing weather makes every step
Across the yard treacherous,
And winds howl with such gusto
Makes one think it’ll never be Spring again!
Some days the sun shines
And as I wait for water bucket to fill
I draw moonscapes with my breath in the air.
Other days I take my hat
And stuff it into my pocket
And slip and slide as I make my way
Up the hill for a view
That may tell me, give me some hope,
Of a Spring that is just around the corner.

This Howl (day 2269)

This howl awoke into a fog
A late winter hovering on summer’s brow
Shifting dreams into shivers
Shifting giants into trees
And stones walking in silence
To wind blowing softly
Upon the giant’s sail.
A lone small bird soared effortlessly
Into and then out of fog
Looking regularly at the ground cover
For the days feed of minions and minnows
Bobbing with the grace of an oil lamp
Stained the colour of desolation
Like a sea captain standing proud
Upon the hearth of a sinking ship
Smoking his last bowl from his foreign pipe
Blowing heavy clouds over the valley
Set deep inside his heart of a howl.

My Baby Does (day 2090)

Who makes me
My baby, my baby
Who leaves me
My baby, my baby
Who runs to me
My baby, my baby
Who hears everything I do
My baby, my baby
Who lies to me
My baby, my baby
Who works me
My baby, my baby
Who keeps me up at night
My baby, my baby
Who makes me howl loud
My baby, my baby
My baby, my baby
My baby, my baby

Rolling Along (day 1941)

A long way from home
And two coyotes howl into the night,
Pale moon’s looking me in the eye,
And I don’t got no campfire going tonight.

A saddle’s a lonesome companion
But this trusty steed’s sure good to me,
Four hooves and a long mane
And my dusty trail goes on.

A valley’s spread is my eager eye
Around every cresting corner,
Naming trees and flicking bees
And I’m just rolling along.

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Like Fire (day 1732)

I do not enjoy this closed solution
These open arms like fire
A road well worn in a town well shorn
And a voice long gone raspy.
Do you try so hard
To make the wolves howl loud?
I’ve seen a tree grow straighter
Then your twisted mind
And I’m closing down
This memory
That’s holding onto me like fire.

Dreams in the Key of Darkness (day 1343)

Sometimes dreams don’t leave room for imagination;
Waking with a fright and deep recollection.
Hollering into night cools my lone wolf.
I’m a man of slip-slopping recollection,
I dine with strangers who share my wine.

We beg for answers when we’ve shown no mercy.
We all do.
It’s the cruelest of tortures that bless us rancid
Until our feverish states blow our sails full.
Darker seas then any wind-swept sailor would care to see.

Rupturing up my torn soul
I do continue to howl in my brief waking hours
For my window has closed and my feet become sore
And my alley of sinister has just become cold,
To await my march as darkness in greeting.