HEAVY WEATHER

A low rumbling a quiet menace brooding on the horizon   a language of sounds ominous clouds above the reach of man   evil markings retire day’s shadows relinquishing serene space to a greater force heavy weather reflects in eyes gazing upward   rain presses onto the souls of mortals.       Advertisements

A FRESH LOOK

It was beautiful because, shaded solitude under a sycamore blanketing a dirt road   durable carpets of moss and grass exhibited proof of ancient inheritance   it’s a bewildering place for those just passing through and an oasis for those walking slowly                      

ANYTIME

wet footsteps on the floor cotton clouds the magic of music handcuffs the soul providing anywhere travel with eyes closed the heart steers without disappointment onto a wide porch waiting for sunset lightening bugs send signals to the fortunate the best place to be is the one they dream of  

ASHES AND AIR

The line thrown onto still waters half a chance to win   every place has a name a marking to be found   water circles the ankles a baptismal washing into beauty the opening of the eyes   we eventually discover the end of the road back where we started   the first breath relived … More ASHES AND AIR

WAITING

Walking the dream on legs without stars   a release drives within like seasons changing from equatorial spinning   pushing us against celestial misgivings of unanswered prayers   where whispers and voices strain through burlap separating the living from storytellers   as miracles wait to be called out from hiding.  

TRAPPED

Observing the art casually standing lightly combing her hair the painting shouts out creating a mythical character of many faces without fear a champion of gardens the temptress of storms and mid ocean currents her authority stands on the dust within the tiles beneath her the foundation of the colors drawn from them half a … More TRAPPED

INTO THE CENTER

Back roads of dust break into my dreams, dividing me. I fall into waters of the past; temporary ground with shallow allotments of time. Like ships running aground, I relive fleeting sections of thoughts wrapped in vines of voices. It’s all a stage of featured impulses holding center court, like lyrical messages on the shorelines … More INTO THE CENTER

SOMETIMES ALONE

Day turns over its hand the imperfect fame and weak applause of dusk follows into nights cover where careless fears settle within a harvest of solitude   the sound of breathing entertains the imagination of rebels  in hiding nearby while in the black beyond there is always something like a vanishing accident or an unused … More SOMETIMES ALONE

CUTTING A PATH

Sailing ships full sails sliding through blue and green waves divide into exhaustion song of wind never the same strong hands mast the desire of motion angles break apart clouds add fuel the earth turns under the surface rope and wood fuel and fury heaven moves aside angels applaud  

RUMBLING

The river is a testament to longstanding, a continuation without interruption   the river possesses beauty and strength its banks dappled with brush and half buried trees   velvet smooth water the veins of flow to the oceans heart feeds on silt from fields and ancient meadows   its motion is a voice   it … More RUMBLING