daniel-sandovalWhisper

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90 mph Down a Red Dirt RoadLosing my breath, heart is cannon thunder as tall Pines scream by leaving Arkansas in their wake. / The machine roars over the red earth like some other lonely planet's surface. Slightest touch is death or at minimum a really bad day. Still the sound of my older brother's coffee and cigarette laughter makes it hard to focus as I push harder in the wheel. It doesn't matter now I can see the road we lost up ahead and I bring my foot up slowly from the last slide, I needed this or some part of me did, to tempt fate's scarred and timeless hand, " the channel locks are in my bag." He reminds me for the 29th time today, but I am braking now, leaving the rallied road behind. I will never in my living days let this moment slip my mind. My heart slows as the muddy wheels glide effortlessly onto the asphalt once more. Oh my brother knows everything about black top too, let me tell ya.
2
Jan 16, 2013
An Apology to HerMy senses reel with every beautiful memory of shining summer days when I see her face. / There is nothing magic about the sunrise in perspective. Hours like stones tied to my back, and I trudge up this hill of regret, trying to fulfill some penance. The venom lies spill into my ear. One more hour, one more stone, and I am breaking slowly. What balm can soothe this, for I would go beyond the sea to find such. I would lay it upon crushed velvet at your feet and cry pardon. But I have nothing, just one more hour, one more stone. I will look to the east and dream of days gone by, of your laughter sweet and the dawn, and hope that once more the star will rise.
2
Jan 16, 2013
Around 3:30pmSometimes it is all talk show host and other times it is floating, if there is a distinction would you notice? Numb is good for a time and then it is nothing. Laying down to waste the days in idle chatter and used up coffee cups. Sometimes there is an angry door, or a sad chair painting in this upside down illusion. What is the core? What is there twixt the dusk and dawn that call unto the beast. We long for the base needs, mate, sleep, hunt not this convenience store loving hoard, give me TV and give me death. Plastic ,prepackaged, sterilized shipped to my door in pristine cardboard. Why am I the way I am?
1
Jan 16, 2013
Backyard StarsAll these backyard stars are sailing, sweeping, spinning over me, still the ground is calling. Lay, stay, stare in awestruck wonder at the infinate diamonds as they dance thier ancient waltz. Who else stared at this beauty before these were my backyard stars? Farmers, ranchers, lovers, they must have stood here, on this calling ground dreaming, wondering, kissing. Now they are mine, my ageless lights. I give one her name, though it probably has been named before. The earth moves and still cries out, but it is too cold. I take my last drag blowing the smoke like a goodnight kiss, someday I will sell this house, stars and all.
1
Feb 2, 2013
Blood GrassDawn fades to day, wilts the orchid's bloom. / Questioned light of coming Spring; of clouds spilling cool waves creating innocent hours. / New midnight sight, colorless worlds caressing remembrance, washed ashore, pulled back into the waves, evoking silence from the once chaotic weaving of a dew drenched widow's web.
9
Jan 16, 2013
Boy at the Ant HillFace down in the mire, head weighs three tons. / Ants marching, he longs to be among their / shimmering ebony ranks.
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Jan 18, 2013
Clouds SpeakingMountainous billowing towers of ivory spill over the upside down ocean, swirling black in the far west. / The emerald sky pulses with life, still the shifting shapes dance in perfect fluid motion unaware, of the ants marching. / Push and pull, light and dark collide in ecstasy, Hephaestus’ hammer falls, as fire flies to the woods above, burning the sky.
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Jan 16, 2013
Dead End AlleyHe lay back down from personal disturbance / of otherwise pacific rest, nothing scholarly knowledge has / conceived could cure a nightmare, or a conscience.
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Jan 16, 2013
DMB in blueBlue is the color of this music, weaving looms of silken poetry all around, but right now it is just mine. / My own stone groove, my embellished improve layered over it . breathing with the rhythm, leg twitches the off beat like it has a mind of it's own. Open the left gate that way we can dance through to joy, or is it the right? / What?
8
Jan 16, 2013
For the Sake of MemoryThe floor is piled with tattered, / age washed images. / These faces breathe again after years behind the glass.
48
May 29, 2015
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