walks the perimeter of fire, beginning the journey or voyage as wide prairie thoughts walk in without obstruction, self inventing today’s 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
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
he stretched to the moon his hand, fingers pointing into unknown fathoms with an ethereal line breaking beyond gravity and limits as he stood on the soil of his part of the earth looking up into the dark and black tempting, taunting the distance from her to there in defiance
the gray of shadow light bending, fragments of words like wrought iron angel wings kneeling within a drizzle of mist surrounding trees shed of leaves, desperate against seasons strength, fail to retain the youth of spring and summers shade the moon rises strong, casting a glance over night
THE DARKSIDE of the moon hiding its face kindred spirits fastened by a line separating the extremes of fire and ice where time has no standard on surfaces without life static suspended gravity dependent, one side bright the other facing backward with a silent view of undisturbed infinity
morning on the eyes breathing without trying, feet to the floor, a moon landing arriving, stretching like canvas dried in the sun watercolors of the room observed the mirror of truth exposes the shades of a face preparing to change washing and then leaving
a back stairway beyond stars and night clouds cracked stone steps rise to a stained faded door half screen the other part wood singing with rust when opening and failing to close when shut gazing up the ascending stairs there’s a light at the end of a twisted cord swinging like a dead … More SINGLE LIGHT
tall pines line the side of the road to the shoreline where rocks lay scattered, black and gray, smooth from millennial washing it’s a place held tight to the chest, spoken of only in memory when skies are alive with color and few words are spoken but night remembers
solitary, being alone when surrounded, mourning without tears, reliving the past while believing the first words of the relationship can be repeated remembering when pockets were full of sun and moon reflecting the glass of a calm ocean as birds swarmed overhead proving miracles did exist
an image within a song showing up before you arrive appearing bigger in the eyes of yourself and where you are on a front porch as a door opens like the words you push in the swing at days end and a front light forming a circle where dew and toys share space … More CLIMBING THE MOON
