The very air we breathe, Empowered

The very air about
our lives is made up
of intellectual
tendrils that stimulate
and encourage agility.

Through these vibrant hues
of breathe we exchange
and accept. I inhabit the realm
of the stars, my mind
a mire of chaos, skewed
perceptions, a devotion.
And you, you speak to me with
a touch of trust, given.

Your energy, one of warmth
and determination, allows mine
to be renewed, a balance between
heart and rebirth.  After
which I shall buff your
innocence to perfection.

 

First Published by: Five2One
Publication Date – August 6, 2017
Link to my Poem

 

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Period

 

I found you again,
hiding in amongst all your
periods and. . . .

Letters, tall and oh so proper,
a calm, intimate facade
that abruptly lets loose
like the slice of a knife
to jolt complacency’s drivel.

You were built of grey and white, child.
Soul lacking in your hasty construct,
a withered eye and censor tacking.
But we are not fools,
we know what you are.

Game always senses
the savage in their midst.
The snarling, gouged creature
barely held in check by
periods and. . . .

 

First Published by: Full of Crow
Publication Date – July 24, 2017
Issue # – Spring/Summer 2017
Link to my poem

 

 

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Following a thought through a wormhole

As I sat writing
letters one morning
a thought took me,
led me away from
my moment.

The farther I got
from that now
the more my anatomy
tried to follow.

I was stretched
between common
and rare, unable
to keep my eyes
on my pen.

Before I knew
of a reason why
not, my senses
split, and I recalled
my purposes,
simultaneous.

As hands took note
my heart took flight,
and the head took
advantage
of any view.

And I saw myself
in 2-D and 6,
one mundane, another
anything but singular,
sitting here
and elsewhere
extraordinarily
still in sync.

 

First Published by: Full of Crow
Publication Date – July 24, 2017
Issue # – Spring/Summer 2017
Link to my poem

 

 

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Dirt Eating

 

The burden
of prayers and curses
flung at open-wide plains
come home to roost,
lacquered upon layers
they hang on me, bind me,
challenge and morph my
persona until I seethe
in my mortality.

I did not ask
for this role. No,
I never volunteered.
But the blood in my
veins was spun long
ago to accept, every
generation a chosen,
every progeny unfailing.

All that is left
to me is to harbor
every cry uttered
until my frame sifts
to dust, and my animus
returns again, enduring.

 

First Published by: Full of Crow
Publication Date – July 24, 2017
Issue # – Spring/Summer 2017
Link to my poem

 

 

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Wintrus

I look out this window
open next to me,
shades rent to a frosted slate sky,
dull bark rubbed course
by a winter’s draw

I look out this window
and see a world unlike my own,
the needs and want of economy
biased within the wheel
of a time’s onward cycle ebbing

I look out this window,
the view a lagging onslaught
of a juncture’s sojourn noted,
with last and fitful flowers there,
a seed forgotten here,
leaves curled in, down to
a brief home and covert hearth

I look out this window
and I see. . . .

A place to step into, with a
yearning to grab hold of, for a
season to bend old toward,
where there are so many
being fleet and beaten bare
by an eternity’s lasting gasp

 

First Published by: Wilderness House Literary Review
Publication Date – 07/03/17
Issue # – Volume 12, No. 2

 

 

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Wings and Memories

 

Memories,
fleeting as mist on the wing,
so many,
so deep and barely lost

This. . .
fireflies
floating the night breeze,
jars clutched in eager hands,
weaving the trees and wild grasses

And that. . . .
the warm scent of hay
on a lazy day in spring,
the lingering hint of hoove and fur
an echo of itself

When a. . . .
wave chased giggling feet,
shells and stars
tumbling down tan limbs
to plop and sink

Where. . . .
moss clung to knobby leaves,
pungent decay a perfect cosmos
for a roll
and minute probe and poke

How. . . .
frozen flakes
were caught, outstretched
digits farflung
and bunched to crunch and sling

Were those shadows
running long side
these images in our dreams,
co-pilots of glee and whim,
pleasure and satisfaction met?

What became
of those journeys
interrupted by tenets
of sporadic maturity
levied on boisterous events?

And why?
. . .just why
have we lost
the innocence
that kept us safe
from life’s assignments?

Duty,
meted out by well-meaning community
far, far adrift
from those wings and memories
. . .and our freedoms, lost

 

First Published by: Wilderness House Literary Review
Publication Date – 07/03/17
Issue # – Volume 12, No. 2

 

 

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Remembrance Lost

 

Remember when. . . .

. . .We were so very young,
you’d drive up every hill
really, really fast, then fly over the top
and the world would drop down through the seats?
We always asked you to

– Do It Again –

Who needed a roller coaster
when we had the best of conductors.

. . .You’d wax the grand staircase
just to watch us slide off the first
step in our jammies with feet
and land at the bottom in a heap
on our sore and rolling rumps
just so you could join us there
all giggling like loons?

. . .We’d sit and watch the fledglings
take their first baths en masse?
Everything so new and exhilarating,
so terrifyingly life-altering?

. . .Laying on the floor
opening presents with the babies,
absorbing every thrill and squeal,
every gift chosen for effect?

. . .When we took those Sunday drives,
speeding through dappled sunshine
over hills and dry creeks,
one-street towns named for someone’s dead aunt,
laughing at the cops who had the temerity
to scold us and give directions in the same breath?

. . .The years began to speed up
and days slowed to a crawl,
but we’d never ever admit defeat
to the march of time?

. . .When we’d lose a member
from our circle and tribe,
then gather with kith
in the backs of their God’s house
and share a life well lived?

And do you,
do you remember
when you grasped my hand
tightly,
never letting go,
forever,
through breaths taken
in sickness and in health?

I remember. . . .

Standing in the room of your creations,
sitting at the table with your last imagining,
seeing your last thought,
wondering what you would be doing next
and knowing I would never get an answer.

For I remember you
and shall not soon forget,
that I love you daily
and miss you more
than a lifetime full of
a thousand single memories
lost.

 

First Published by: Wilderness House Literary Review
Publication Date – 07/03/17
Issue # – Volume 12, No. 2

 

 

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