Some nights I am a leaky faucet,
my journal catches drips.
Those nights I sleep, the faucet fixed,
my journal dry,
Atop a rock, aloft.
The valley spread below.
A pat of sun melts down my chin
and smears amongst my toes.
The wind brushes my lips,
a kiss of pine and grass,
My soul, it hungered, I was fed
from nature never fast.
What am I to do with you my dears?
My mind said to my thoughts.
The ink is thick, the bustle gone
and now you want to romp.
The sun has packed his rays
and all the world its stimuli,
and in the deadened void that’s left
you want to multiply.
Though I tucked you into bed
it seems that I was tucked with thee.
Alas, besieged, I cannot flee,
my day is done, not me.
ensconcing empty black
In the blackness
just myself reflected back
In those limpid
afloats an orb of nearly naught
I pull the thread to
find the spool
and end up holding knots
Amongst the knots
a shadow roams
and suffocates the light
Two honey domes
without a comb
and endless naked night
There’s truth now behind, that great irony:
You can’t see the forest from its multitudinous trees.
Well, at least be aware that
the spirit is there in entirety.
It encompasses space that
time will erase
unless its wisdom we heed.
But the spirit remains for a moment.
A ghost put to shame, and
we are to blame, for owning it which cannot be tamed.
Time is meaningless, but the
world isn’t gleaning this, not
understanding this fleeting kiss,
our touch is infectious, reckless
there is no way to reset this.
Denature our Mother that
we so unjustly smother
for this appetite we can never sate.
As Love turns to Hate,
Our Kiss turns to ****,
til we ignore what we can’t flee,
can’t see the Forest from the Trees.
As armed ants advance
Beautifully beyond blasted borders,
Crazed caterpillars create
Fiery fights form
Gracefully. Gleaming gear
In ill-prepared insect incisors.
Jowls juice. Just
Keep killing. Keep killing.
Lordly lust leaps, leading
Maniacal maggots mercilessly.
Not nearly neat nature now. Nasty new-horror negates
Original order. Overlords order;
Paternal pressure pokes
Reaching re-riled responders. Rest rowdily royal
Slaves. Soon shrill sounds shout silently. Sun-break signals
Vulcanism. Voracious vulgarities
Wrap war wistfully whilst
Yearn yearlong. Yawing
Zephyrus’ zeppelin: zephyrs zoom zilched zealots.