thunder comes up over the hollow and lays down in the street
circles my yard and peaks at my feet
I try to wake my loved one to make her aware
then I realize that beside me she lays…rumpled here and there
to stay at home or not
no matter… the thunder rounds herself up
she will always be near
I stagger around in my thoughts…as if an open book
as if a locked attic with no key and skeletons that wish to be free
My panic sets in whether day or night
In small snippets I remember the daffodils, the farmland, the rebirth, the light
In small, form fit spaces…this is where the head and the heart fight
I assume nature is alarmed, possibly having already panicked years before
Perhaps, the reason for a locked attic door
A frightening thought during the midnight hour…
Something so beautiful as you, crying in desperation.
How can beauty be hit so hard?
Where had my fevered mind traveled?
The woods of ash and hemlock surround the bed dipped by morning dew…
made black and blue.
My illicit youth became a blackened mirror to the truth…
Fevered pitch ran from the pines asking not ‘what if.’
But is left to do.
At some point,
promises given out…weigh greater than…the ones kept.
The heft of diminishing worlds…overwhelm delicate scales of time.
An eternity of missteps…lost in tall pines.
Stockpiles of contrasting beauty…yet, no apparent sign.
I frequent my primitive vows.
Though they have snapped and rotted…
Cracked and shattered…
Receding over the years.
Bare and illegible, I must own my incomplete ‘why’!
Seek it out under azure skies.
For without ownership,
I am but a false warrior.
With a fistful of lies.
“Alas,” said the mouse, “the whole world is growing smaller every day. At the beginning it was so big that I was afraid, I kept running and running, and I was glad when I saw walls far away to the right and left, but these long walls have narrowed so quickly that I am in the last chamber already, and there in the corner stands the trap that I must run into.”
“You only need to change your direction,” said the cat, and ate it up.” #Kafka
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Your Brain is a Radio that Does What its Told
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