faded field
once vibrant color
dyed brown

I'm gonna be ready
Planning my words as I speak
when you start coming
back around again, see me
getting straight thoughts not yet said

Low flying full clouds
Heavy down filled layered
Snuggled in safe warm

Back from the badlands
Ripped pride, torn soul, ****** hands
bruised man, repentant lover
Carrying a bandaged heart
Wrapped in lessons, tied in knots

inside clarity
consternation disappears
living without fear

This word they write
I think it is a misprint
it's
a-R-t-i-s-t-i-c
so ignorant

Crushing news today
from five thousand miles away,
feeling helpless, needless to say
could you please sends some prayers my way

Don't shoot the messenger
and this is not here-say
but don't hate on
God almighty
it is the men
who use him
so perversely
Pray they pay
and stop
blaming
GOD

filled with hope
empty glass of wine
lipstick stained

stadium beating
breathing to pink's magic band
pigs floating above
lasers dancing in my eyes
driving backwards towards home

bounding up rivers
jumping boulder to boulder
heart beating harder

screaming cannon *****
echoes deep off canyon walls
cooling water falls

ancient healing pools
washing away the week's nerves
nature's secret spa

The salmon struggle
in the current passing me
on their own one way up
the river trip to eternity

following always
behind, tripping as I go
straining eyes looking
just a glimpse of you would do
forever around the next bend

What woeful look I see?
Mapping trouble, all is bare
Ease them onto me, friend

Hollow wind waling
Whispering the butchers bill tally
heard by all who listen

Bo's clay fell today
the little palm print in laid
my boy, young again

bleak november skies
cold winter death soon arrives
corpses covered white

rustic sealed purses
slit open, sea water in pearls
succulent beauty

waiting for the storm
to wash away these blue skies
these hot shots need rest

when the oil lamp is put away
beyond my frosted cabin glass
silence reminds me, throw the latch

window framed picture
pastel palette on display
god painted morning

milky silt rivers
gashing pastel covered fields
tears from slipping slopes
glaciers coursed going southward
now heading back north

Did you have somewhere to be
The way you looked at me, I thought maybe
You’d stay, I guess you had someone else to see

Yellow green pollen
Swarming  the butterfly
She brushed them onward
To there final resting place

morning hue
shining silver dew
always new