Cold today
but at least
the sun's
in play

Out in it

Wind talking
through mouthfuls of white pine
sweeping, swishing whispers
just enough to let the chimes
sing as bells
without bashing-- themselves
to dissonant trinkets

Music-muttering, free

Leafless shadows of the early spring
cold creeping 'cross
the yards toward noon
where they disappear
into a wood-chipper

What the hell is with my neighbors?

Why do people hate their trees?
Maybe 'cause they are not theirs?
Grown beyond them and their confines?

My tiny yard so feral
They probably hate mine too
But I belong to them  
and mine belong to me
They curve around, protective
my home of wind and bird and sky
swirling
cream 'n coffee
one into another
like  
Music sometimes
falling through itself into...
Sure--
know ******* a morning

I let them live

trees and neighbors

...as my mind smears into afternoon

The calm must be immense
In Paradise and the vista
A view like no other
The shores we swim to white
Sandy clean
There when we reach nirvana
As we fulfilled become
One with the universe
Promises of religious sanctity
All our hopes and dreams
Like stars in the dark sky
Lying before us
All sparkling a sea
Of diamonds to look
Towards

It's a good day drawn on
The sunny canvas a bit
Fluffy cloud meandering
Away where cotton ball
Clouds go on a calm day
When the rain gods and thunder
Goddesses go off to
Fort Lauderdale
Or Tahiti to occasion the tropics
With storms but
Here was pleasantly warm
Enjoyable
No one needed antiperspirants
Or sweaters
And it got painted by Monet
This day did
A hundred times
All differently
A slight change of
The suns angles
The differences
In the shadows laying left or right

And how brightly stark
The sun shone early
Changed midday to
Blindingly overhead
Then reached to the edge
Of your right eye
Evening a long cast
A glimmer almost gone

Like days past.
Memories of childhood
Youth all once again.

The sun has shone
Me things
Shined for millions ages anon
Be it my
Everglow now.
Now I take her to heart.

Here 'bouts we draw out the y'all
And the thank you, ma'ams
With that syrupy thick tongue
Of a southern traditional
Slow fine China sit-down with
Cloth napkins
Dinner of turnip greens tangy
Bits of ham drenched
In karo syrup
The warmest homemade soft rolls
Of course sweet tatos
Orange unique sweetness
Snap peas, too sweet-tea
Lip licking politeness
Formal
In tradition reserved
For only the white folks
Way down south
We molasses
Slow to spit out
The
Reality of
How do  
Or morn'
We tend-
Us good old folk-
To live like its still
1865.
Slower still to
Want to face
It's now
2018.

I dreamed I
Saw fields of straw
Hallucinated the waves
Coming to me

I begged on
That little
Self inside me
To prove

His realness
And he said
I just am
And I

Answered
But the field was
Real to me all
Waving

Standing
Applauding
A festivity
Of me

And you are who
A homonculus
A being
Inside me
Have you

I questioned him
Myself me
My being
Mine ID

Have you
Little my
Senses of self
Monitor

My matriarchal
Patrician
Overseer
Have you

One too?
A little you
Inside you talk
To question

Go to in stress
For advice
And if so
Does he too?

On and and and and

Ononon
We went
Late


Into the night into day
I went

Back
To
The
Field

Autumnal equinox of a long season standing raw sun
Sweating drips become ripe
As the bottoms of watermelons do
Lying ripening swelling
Swaying feel the stem
Tighten become draught
I turn
Sway in the lengthening
Days
Like an old woman
On a wooden porch
A Hand fan and a flowered dress
In an old oak rocker
Lean
To one side
Redden
Brown Crispen
Brittle brittly
Spin in one
Great fall
Off
Down I spin now
Now alone fall
Fall to earth
Dissolve
And how else
Should life
Be