~ Corrosive elevation Metabolic creation At the mouth of cough drop falls Trails of caustic, nomadic influence: Coffee lips Decaffeinated tongue Resealable groove Reusable embryo White hunter Melt snow Hang fire Black crow
Mechanical peak Summit on a stick Chiseled grey The smoke ascending They call "day" Lovely shade of sadness, this Wandering endocarp Hidden in caves, hollows, crags, cellars, and cisterns It came naked From out of the acrid woods And said
We never give much thought, Thinking we are standing, On solid ground every day, There is always something moving, Below our feet, over forty - one thousand, Earthquakes, in the year twenty - twenty That’s just in the U.S.A. Then if we think of all of the void spaces, Empty mines, caverns & caves… Many of us living above, under - ground holes, While the oceans, along our country’s east & west sides, Wash away, acres A year, with high tides, and waves.
The prime I’m in (cold file) grinds down the onslaught of the surf. Wet hands coerce her tidal politic: a love-sick shire of common knots, revolting, wretch assured.
Unleash the phantoms of the wistful world at bay from that optimal day when climbed I up the risers, capped to fortune, palme-d'essence, mindful hitch. You stitched the barrier between your absence and my glitch - upheld the cases made for fiery rhythms of romance, as echoes clattered in the apse of quiet towns’ pastoral grasp.
I’m sitting shameless in the offing of a while. Unseated: will my offspring smile at sunny landings on the peaceful shores of joy? Can such be relished by a boy? Or will his chains hold strong and anchor back to relapsed wrong? Can such be relished by a song and her soprano? played piano for the crowd, but filling one’s forever, wonder-loud?
light mist and heavy clouds it is fog that guides my way rivers and mountains will remain long after i am forgotten for i erode too sheltered in my quiet place i think of myself growing older, but more aware i have done so much i have done so little i would give it all to re-live one day with you late now, and night is deep and still i think myself foolish for even believing you've taken notice can you see through the fog? am i left here to stumble? blindly? if that is my fate i will not wear it well i will erode with the other forgotten and dream of the time when i was alive