Like a malevolent magnet
pulling at the ever malleable skin, stretching
years from womb to grave
charged electrons blinding
the eyes, moisture dried with their green grey cataracts
like smeared windows or dirt dull headlamps and
all transparency and vision
beneath the layered years left as muddied memory waiting
for the ever increasing magnet to finally make
the snap.

Winters echo
penetrating crisp
and hardy ground, cold
blinding sun
early as proverbial birds
humming, squinting
selfish new born fields
awash
with its bleach
and dewy flesh, I
wander the spiney woods,
the icy thin shell-like leaves,
stark and barely clinging
by their stiff, season worn tails.
Ahead the thin whispers of breeze
and endless footfall
over trodden dampness
where the sun misses all hours
yet still
leaves a fresh air
and humble fume to heed
the lungs and echo.

Your pages
brown and leather bound
as aged voice
Mute leaves and salty tongue
protean by twenty chords -
Wasteland winds fronting the sun
carrying the most worn
of voices;
sandy words chewed to
glass,
shattering teeth
and
the promise of tomorrow;
as only children sing.

Night is black card
with chicken moon
pecking holes for stars

day is broken egg
with tannin yoke for sun
and insects let from jars

afternoon is worn
slow weather in vain
like leaves falling or
the smell of rain.

twilight is hidden
a mere surprise
feeling shapes through wrapping
watching the chicken rise.

Behind her
        the sun shattered
into a million pieces.
The horizon
       which once held the sky, split
and fell in two
causing night to re-emerge - Unveiled
In front of her
        I stand speechless;
my thoughts shattered
        into a million pieces.

A walk home
                      Staggered.
A conversation
                        D
                            e
                               e
                                  p.

Such pregnant words
                                       Lost
Out in the dark
Again.
Are we still?

I shall never know.