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Bryce May 2018
My mind emerges from the muck of dream
Sheen of crust and blurry view

In my mind you loom

In my dreams you sing your tune.

Step, clomp, foot, stomp

Off these laces
Pull these wagons
Heft these towers
Lay their power

Dream of vistas green and new
Untouched where?
there I see you

Log cabin of Linking Logs
Cobble our souls and roll them in stones
Heat our hearths and steam our schemes
Give us that leftover dream

But flags wave in every breeze
There is no land for my free

And that farm on the brook
I dream of maintenance
Will fall as quick
into this reapere

to pull the gift of life from dying soil
And play that I can have paradise
on earth

With iron ore
and sweat of toil

I will build a walled garden
to respect the rest
and tell myself

To keep dreaming.
V Apr 2018
The boughs of a placid embassy
fall flat when the citizens
become the crumbling pillars
that hold up the already fractured foundation.

— The End —