Climbing the hill
Keenly aware of
Wind groomed grasses
Here
Where the sun may rise tomorrow
Here
Where the moon may vanish to the carnivore Night

The hill, preened and regal
Where
I, the unkempt interloper sit
Here
Amid company far more revered
With grand mien - brother goldenrod, sister milk **** and patrician purple top
Here
They sway to a higher power, to a greater joy than this pauper commands
Here
They observe me
And I too myself

Transfixed I consume  the grand community and the stranger
Outward and inward
Light and spirit seen
Until
The day’s end
Quits the commune
Now
the grasses tossed by a gentle breeze
Now
Brushed spectacular hues
Teased grass follicles
My sister, my brother and my Lord
Visually on fire from sun’s final fare-thee-well
Occasional flashes of dirge, shades of blue

The earth does not rumble
Yet time does
Twilight the great equalizer
I sway down the hill
Grateful that I rise

As I
Ease into
Pose
Of a corpse
I wonder
At the edges
We construct
Between us,
How real
The chasm
Seems
When I
Succumb
To the urge
To set
Both form
And beat.

It’s Easter in Coronaland;

The empty malls hold silent air.

There’s paranoia on demand

For Easter in Coronaland.

The baby chickens make their stand;

And pastel rabbit eggs declare:

It’s Easter in Coronaland

In empty malls of silent air.

There is a special chair.
It’s not mine.
I like to use it anyways.
It is so easy to take.
It moves
Like a walking pace.
It can go faster,
But not for my mother.

I remember when I first met you.
You’ve been around like anything that’s come before me.
Already there.
The shiny handle rims
On wheels.
It always looked like
A giant silver grapefruit
Cut in half.
The thought makes me smile.
I always thought it was so heavy then
I couldn’t lift
But I could knock it over.
Make the giant grapefruit spin
Faster and faster.
I would have to stop it.
Give it back.
It’s not mine.
It is needed.

You’ve changed a lot
Over the years
Just like me.
You’re still needed.
My mother walks less these days.
Now-a-days
I push you more then I use to.
I spend so much time around you.
I’m not afraid.
You’re not mine.

I’ve used you before.
When I was little
I would see how it felt to ride in
My mother’s personal chariot.
It was complicated
To be bound to a movable chair
The way she was.
If I fell over, I could get
Up again.
My mother could not.
You are still needed.
You chariot with silver
Sliced grapefruit wheels.
You are not mine.

You’ll always be around
You’re still needed
Till death parts you

Her desire was love
but she found a land of ice.
In her duty to melt it
she ended up frozen alive.