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

A BAG OF SALVATION

words on stone as angels pass over where clouds hold tight the soul of belief as winds push back and then forward to the promise at the highest point where air is fresh like cool water filling your spaces washing onto your shoreline the best of all parts

RIVER VOICE

the voice of the river surface gentle troubled deep the warning drifts past stirring desire and fathomed fear water prints, smooth circled twists, suggesting what lies below and out of sight the flow is a deliberate force to the ocean slow and continuous, unmatched, unchallenged

TIME AND WATER

one a great force the other invisible   both unrestrained resistant to change regardless of seasons constant as gravity   seconds move the hands clouds possess miracles   comfort eases the pain of the weakness we fail to overcome to change either one   lest the gift of each be wasted

BROKEN WISHES

it begins to rain   heavy without warning, an ocean of water descends from the sky   stepping around broken glass in the gutter, reminds me of fallen stars and broken wishes   I am soaked through, exposed, feeling shirtless as the cold clings to me   water gathers then runs off abiding to gravity … More BROKEN WISHES

DISCOVERING

trellised words, vined thoughts, labyrinths watering misshapen clay under the eyes of what was hidden invisible,   releasing messages from years,   unstoppable,   like the warmth of a calendar welcoming summer during the search for me  

BREATHING OUT

the house was a fire of voices   a child on the front porch sang a song about water and boats   floor boards language inner travel from room to room   burnt evening skies brushed the house with setting shadows as night breathes out a deep sigh of quiet

WATER PRINT

mercurial  breezes stirred the ponds surface creating a water print with soft twisting sounds of irregular disruption forming ripples without direction soon breaking apart returning the surface to smooth glass, reflecting late afternoon clouds

COLD VENGEANCE

its where the pavement ends and road signs are shot to death   scattered sickly scrub brush with harpoon needles waits for victims   sweeping lizard tail art marks ancient sand, evidence of survival   everything breathing or searching for water is the appetite of the desert, a soulless vacuum encouraging the line to be … More COLD VENGEANCE