Decay All mighty Zeus Rendered into crumbling marble From stone to form and back And so Myst my weakened flesh Whispers of my name And all memory subsumed Not so mighty then As the arrow
I love flowers But not the kind that are planted side by side in perfectly straight rows or precisely arranged into a delicate bouquet Instead I love the ones that grow wild and ragged along the sides of highways Surrounded by broken glass and litter Pops of bright yellow bursting alongside the dull gray asphalt Free to grow in whichever way they please.
Keeper of the meaning Mindfulness a prelude The struggled literature it asked the way The keeper, contemplating the path Stopped to think about Natural things Asking elders on the trail Creating triads Depicting aspects of her answer To the question What it means And some; were enlightened And air and breath and beauty Wrought wrath Indigenous justices Things worth keeping To the keeper of meaning
Weeping bleeding memory tree Who branches are heavy When amber globes hang And pop with sudden death Smashed on Gravitational wombs Careen into cayenne powdered loam They'll unfold Irises in the dawns morning sputtering sparking electric dreams where it grows beside the Styx
I want to live in a tin roofed shack with a cooking fire underneath that curls up its smoke from under an iron *** watch blue dark clouds Roll in over the hours so I can hear it's music beat a rhythm out on my tin roof