Drifting back to the ocean
like it never even happened
unraveled dreams washed clean
crystalline renaissance bestowed    
by wind mountain spring waters
rising from the heart
of mother earth

A remnant light glows deeply
of one love's untamed wonders
an unfastened feather glides abandoned
rushing waters floating
alighting pilgrim blissfully sails on
stranded without wings
a fallen wild feather free as bird
wanting a place to be let free

Sun in the summer air
wind in buoyant feathered hair
softly dancing upon
wild river restless ripples
to feel the love of holding on
adrift asunder whence it touched on
destiny's far-reaching
journey yonder
holding onto flowing rivers
rolling towards the sea

The incoming tidal waters blossom
surge to greet wind river's gentle saunter
converging slackening passage
salt on feral feathered fragments
arousing currents babbling swirl
imbibed by the impassioned sea

Wild rivers' born intentions
a different kind of drifting passage
to kiss the distant horizon
where the sown sunlight settles
submerged in shoreless ocean waters
    to be free all at sea at last


someone you used to know  2017

Piteous silhouettes hung loosely in the dark
bloodstained pools evaporated, staining like a birthmark.
Even the wind was mindful not to be found in this place.
static was the air like corroded snowflakes,  stark
reminders that this was decaying like a living carcass.

Pictures woeful reminders of moments when life exhaled.
But nothing is collecting only the whispers veiled
behind nothingness. The threshold of dismay was
as quiet and suffocating that none were failed
they just lingered behind the walls, breathless life in pause.

Conception of what lay within the ebbing stone walls.
Feathers onyx as nightfall were called angel falls,
for no crows were seen, but the feathers fell, was this
the gateway now to hell. Trapping all within its halls.
Dismay as life ebbed around, live consumed by this abyss.

Where the peacock paints the green into the gardens with her crown jewels of blue,
She stayed there longer to watch the plumage of hues.
A canvas full of colours that are very loud,
Is this is what makes you so proud?

Funny how you cannot see your own beauty in the colours that are true,
Instead you see them in ultraviolet, not your royal blue!
She can clearly see, she had eyes,
Strutting conspicuously, it walked away showing off it’s prize.
It thrived where others merely survived, and never ceased to leave them mystified.

She felt like a splash of brown and grey in a room full of vibrant peacocks,
Never realised how time flies with the ticking of the clocks.
For even though she couldn’t fly, at least she knew she had tried.

I don't know
how to put it all into words
and still keep myself intact.

The hands in my chest reach out to catch a star,
but instead they grab a bird, which escapes,
leaving everything behind
but its feathers.

Our tears are resurrected everyday
                      like feathers that turn to ash
they are then they are not.
             Reborn for that time when feathers of emotion fall.

Theirs a daisy in my tea cup.
Theirs a sun set setting high.
Theirs a river running past me.
And the deer are striding by.
Their are feathers stuck inside the tea ***,
and their are a few in my cup.

We  remember, or at least most of us do.
The lesions we were taught
about a people who are now few
fewer than the patches of grass in our city parks
fewer than the smog less city's that
have wilted our daisy hearts

Now we've gone and built our world
on top of their prairie plains
we gave them land to live on
but reservations aren't the same