A skeletal stag standing ten trees tall
Hanging moss adorning His wide antlers, patches of rocky lichen covering His driftwood bones
Large cloven hooves stepping carefully yet purposefully among the bleached remains littering the forest floor
He alone reigns here, in this place beneath ours
Even the pines fall silent as He passes
Even the stones
The air is old here
Thick with a power lost to time
Only He is left; a dimming flicker in a collective consciousness
Keeping a lonely vigil in an ancient forest a thousand miles deep and a hand's width beside us
No breath is drawn here
The soft rattling of His timber ribcage is the sole sound as He moves
Ceaselessly
Without rest
To a place always changing, never quite there
The ossuaries lay in a heavy silence
He assures the eternal slumber of all who rest here
The hollows in His skull seem to observe them, undisturbed
He moves on
His name has been forgotten for millennia
This sacred ground has become but a fleeting memory
Few old gods remain, lost to the quickening of time
He remembers, as He stands keeper of this place
Of an age before ours
When they would polish the skulls of the hunt with holy oils in His name
Dancing wildly and unburdened around towering flames
Primal sounds ripping raw from reverent lips
Now He is all but a wavering in the annals
He pauses in His endless march
Raises His great antlers to the thick canopy above
He listens
Feels the shift -- another one has faded
He will most likely be the last of His kind
A somber sentinel tasked with ensuring the dead wake not from their final sleep
Ensuring the silence is suffocating
A deep, weighted vibration
As if the place under ours was itself thrumming with power
Though none remain who once spoke His true name in fearful whispers
He will outlast
For all will eventually come to know
The one they now call death

What good is tall grass?
Your blue eyes cupped in my hands, already

I've asked the saints to dunk me under
in all undue riches
save me from my Only One

Ocean shores love knees to touch
craving almost as much our love long whispers
heads bowed
Our toes realizing chorus and green
and tame it no longer, tumbling
so fully-it shocks us to the tips of our hair splits
not even sandy yet

Offering my jewels to Pharaoh
maybe he could take this price off my head,
my wheels off, nights pink tongue from my window

Over the beds of yellow and orange prayers, still blooming
I step beside the ****** to ask,
but not forgetting,
blue ball caps that scream
over the tops of curly heads

and where am I but always with you at the beach?

We are the very essence of Ares and Aphrodite
A fighter, and a lover
I am Venus, bringer of peace
And her, Mars, bringer of war
We could never exist without each other
Yet we both want to,
Need to,
Desperately.
There is no peace without war.
There is war without peace.
Who am I to you?

Something devilish
Antlers In The Churchyard,
your home is a forest of mirrors
voices clinging to shapes in the darkness
Swallow down the warmth
As it drips from your mouth you will mourn
Cry for your mother,
Who will touch you now?
No skin on your fingers
No leaves on your branches
The burn of rain in your bloodstream
The scream of wind in your endless thoughts
You are a God in a place you don't belong
something old among the concrete
long since buried
They locked you up
But you will be fed

A silver moon engulfs a thousand suns
and sheds blue silky light across the land.
The wind plays its howling symphony,
with trees and mountains as instruments.

A cold body awakens from rigid sleep
putting tendons and muscles into motion.
Slowly, but ever faster it moves along
until spirit and body merge – creating life.

Consuming all its resources around
the goal has become a distant dream.
Then a jolt runs through the martyred figure
and it searches in vain for a familiar point.

From the deepest black it is driven,
without its doing and stiff resistance.
It must leave this beloved place
in exchange for coldness and piercing light.

However, all he sees is a giant devouring his body
to the sounds of his first screams.

But instead of terrible pain,
he now looks at the infinite cosmos.
Not with the spirit of an ape,
but that of a god, who experienced his birth, death and re-birth.