In your mind
And in your breath
Find me  
I beg of your impenetrable walls  
To crumble and come  
Down  
  
My God....
down and all around me..  
    
I'd love to hear you  
lying and next to me  
    
Make me a believer    
    
I might believe    
    
Pant my name right out loud  
In singular high  
And sweetness    
It might ease your tongue    
And stroke into it  
    
I know that I would....  
    
I wish that i could  
    
I would for you  
    
I would find that place in me  
Where my name    
On your tongue could reach  
Death's bed beaches  
And propel them to the shore  
Slamming waves  
Eroding rocks
and ungodly placement  
    
And over...  
Over, over  
    
Over.  
    
But a lifetime more than  
geology between us  
More than an ocean could stand  
without parting  
Much more than I had thought to  
place willingly    
    
Even still    
My longing turns readily    
And responds wildly    
To even the thought of it  
    
Asking more of the archer in me    
Than my pull can possibly bring  
I feel the need to draw the bow    
Intensely    
    
But Christ the intensity  
    
It is...  
Intense  
    
Too much    
Too far  
To pull that mark  
And unable to hit?    
    
Once more...  
    
I withdraw

Is it truth,

For the hopeless and lost
With arms extended
From tired bodies
No burn left in them
And fingers wave
Symbiotic water flow
A free fall
From a quiz life
And the buzzing of it
Gone

Though the reaching still tries to breech
And pound
And claw their way
Out of it
The eclipse and filthy whole
Muddy with grasping
Parched from searching
Is it ever finding?

A way back home

A face contorts
The question why screamed
And floats away on silence
And it's cloud
So...
With almost no options
And grey hair thinning
Wired and running from his head
he ties his reasoning on the leg of a homing pigeon
He does not realise
In all his disturbance
That they flew off into non existance
That this logic will not fly

Or ever return to it's keeper

A thumbnail sketch
Of a face grinning youth
now tethered
With leather strip
binding itself to arched claw
And staked grounding
To prevent itself from
Ever leaving
Cooing up and away from self
And swallowed by skies
Of foreign, aging foreverness

The palpable infininate
Misplaced
Switched at birth
One story goes...
And still others laid out
And in the cards

The hands that placed them
old and paper skinned
Veins of wisdom poking through
pulsing calm and slow
Trees of knowledge
run ease in the lines of her palm

Her eyes are met
With great fear
terrifying roars of uncertainty come out of swallowing throat
And he sinks back in
And down into unknowing
joining other hands
That wag and claim
Need
And try to earn our pity

beg to be plucked
And lifted out of
And answered

He owns a world
In his own right
he owns a world of masked sight
And a bliss
When watched on one side of it

but on the other
One notices
he is either dead
Or in the dreadful state of not quite dying
And that he has closed hellish gates
On what lay outside of these
To pity this
I might warrant it
Might enter them and hear the swing

but to lay compassion in his hand
I do defy condemnation
I do earn my own reward
and breathing state
In the eternal
I will know absolution
I will grasp truth
And squeeze it into a diamond

It is dawn over these summer hills. The blue skirts of fog billow and lift and show their knees.    
The water below caps white tipped and nips blue grey with the heads of big fish.        
Pink dawn shows her lovely face.        
She smiles a covenant with centuries of great pride.      
    
Her arms hold a tale of the people, who were my Grandfathers, and my Mother’s own.        
They were my Uncles and the children that rose from them.        
They had ***** faces and broken backs. They owned mules and hounds that knew the way home.      
    
And I am here.        
And I am made breathless by the scene and reminder of it.      
I hear hillbilly music.    
  
The instrumental keeps my people in mind and balances the world.      
Keeping trouble distant, but a part of me.      
Its efforts place compassion in my palm.      
Hands with gentleness like mine strum.      
They pat on knees hard times broken by laughter and happy families.  
    
The sweet mandolin plays amazing grace with harmony sung by women in rags.        
And they brush my hair back softly from my face. And ask me to show it.        
And grin that my fingers are not blistered. And that my arms are not leathered by sun.      
    
And they hum a new song, about my journey, and about my son.        
The melody becomes words of my own and I miss him like heartbreak, but hold it dear.        
One day soon... I will show him this view.        
From a bridge that spreads the morning before you, like a kind woman holding a photograph.

In forested moonlight        
Scattered pale blues            
And caught the flank of a midnight            
Black            
            
And there was gripped            
For a brutal moment            
The wild of the beast            
Then shot fear and thundering pound       into the Earth            
Where it was absorbed and held            
For a Mothers arms are always willing      
        
It was heard in the beasts hit of hooves   And in its eyes like a drowning pool            
the question Why            
            
But no answer was given            
Though she lamented            
Its Mother only shook her head            
soft smile passing from knowing  
mouth    
In utter juxtapose from feelings felt            
            
The beast slowed its pace            
As confusion touched apathy            
It harbored its clip            
Its shoulders shrugging            
Dawning its harness as the sun rose ready            
            
And daylight saw Man's dominion            
It rose and gave over to a gentler master
the fate of the wild
in Woman's hands            
And though quite capable            
she was sadly so            
In all her certainty            
She was very sad to watch the wild go