MORNING,

walks the perimeter of fire, beginning    the journey or voyage as wide prairie thoughts walk in without obstruction, self inventing today‚Äôs challenge, stirring within a ballad of an open field as you set out until the habit of a faithful evening of stars and moon encourage our rest

A REQUEST

for the wish tomorrow, softly released as day shelters behind night approaching, pushing curtains aside exposing warm spaces of patience and belief within a cloud body of words held tightly within the secret soul

BEYOND

the universe stands, shouldering the mass, overlooking the surrounding named, unnamed lights, directing motion with a terrifying force as planets drift into deepest orbits, past or near day and night, untouched by seasons, expanding beyond the dreams where no one will ever go

THIS PLACE

seclusion is my inspiration of alone unbroken time, a silent bloom to create, construct and listen to winds and waves while considering the advice from clouds under a galaxy of private space with incense of thought filling corners, walking over crossroads

DESPERATE

the lost know how to be found they are the dust of failures and the chance for success they court the sun worship the moon and question the shadow following behind they hum an unfamiliar song remembering parts and the parts offered up for another try at something, anything

ENTER THE GHOSTS

sleep, the back half of what was, leftovers from today, ghosts of the past stepping through an open door without resistance as the sand underneath changes to water, drowning your breath or pushing you from a rooftop sparing your impact, your death, until repeated another night

BIRTHDAY CANDLES

silent wishes inside whispers, unopened presents frosting smiles, festive hats pointing to heaven, where eyes reflect the soul as a chorus of support welcomes all into the center where voices entertain with gifts in story

WALK AWAY

WALK AWAY an audible moan of muted thunder crosses over the surface of this unknown road stirring the air and dust from fence posts and porches barbwire sky flashes send jagged pitch forks into the caldron of disturbed weather a warning to take the other side of this unknown road and walk away

CORNER SHEPARD

a gravel voice dirty hands fall and winter in his hair fire eyes looking for a curious glance as he points up signaling the end, suggesting everyone line up under stars and sun as arrows target the weights and measures unlocking the door within you

THE HAND

is a perfect flower opening with morning stretching, reaching, designing moments achieving success fulfilling needs, desires, preparing to create protecting, supporting this day this evening until night when resting dreams stir them without our permission