Life fades as if a watercolor sunrise
purple and blue, crying together
red and orange infuse onto green’s meticulous tapestries.
An iron wrought with delicate seams.
Imagery that never quite becomes…caught.
Chasing the tail of struggles for what is not always sought.
All of the above, coloring book fights that have been previously, fought.
A spectacle of speckles and freckles within the calamity of just one thought.
It would not matter the words I shout, groovy or sick, to the patchwork hills.
Indulgence, demons and reprieve, a masquerade of cheap thrills.
Dark the wood aching for sun
So many conversations we have had
Derelicts of the times, both good and bad
You and I, cloaked in a nasty game of hide and seek
In this, warring courtyard, curves and cushions of fodder
In this, crumbled down streets, forks and flexure and fixtures
I bend to breathe
Hollow becomes my rasp
Sharp is my bath water
Obstructed is my throat…
I quarrel with the words I say
Naked and ravenous, I take to the sodden road
drained of your city ways
Pulling off onto Holiday Hill…
Looking for sophistication…still.
What to find without pills for the mind?
Bald mountains with white caps.
Shuttered Mom and Pop motels afraid of winter’s snow.
Deadpan trail cops, uncertain with authority.
Cabins for the fancy people.
Camps for the basics.
Time flies by on the tails of…risk-taking fowl.
Oh, memory be kind.
Now that I give myself away.
Spring day in February
Hurt, ache, dispersed…and, now whisked away for just one day.
A particular release that no written word can negate.
The aroma of hope absorbed in cedar turns from scent to sound.
Magic in enjoying languid moments…
relishing in standing still with no chill, no longer a myth.
There is music in loving winter when it decides to go.
In the dark months, I attempt to realize not ‘everything is in my mind.’
In the light of now…when wind turns to breeze, my feet dare not touch the ground.
A fleeting thought as the sun goes down,
‘when the weather changes…never be the last to know.’