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BB Tyler Dec 2015
early morning
enough to catch the sunrise color
on a snag of wool
in a leafless tree
in the wind

seed to the chickens
hay the goats and the sheep
their turds on the frozen ground
like coffee beans
in the early morning
BB Tyler Oct 2015
I left the world.

Out beyond the stars
are no brighter lights,
only what's left
from the beginning.
Further still i went into the black,
the hard lack of heat,
soaring.

No solace,
no sign of any path,
led me here,
to where i am,
unheard and unmade in space.

The drums my heart,
and lungs, the melody maker,
is left with remembering
when all the burnt out bulbs are left deep in the basement.

Cleaning house
to become again like
open air,
twisting free,
the smoke.

Brought into body,
mind work wrought of
so light a plastic bending
truth.
Feel, fell out again.

Made of making.
Fireplace breaking spills light
out over the burn.
Floor is ash, Earth
for growing more building beams
to dance on.

Over again, great wheels eating
SUNS! I look and am blinded.

Sipping nights through my teeth,
speaking to a screen,
recording my dreams well after waking,
made solid sinking base-layer bedrock.

sting citrus sing to me
sweet ******* salt
something in the wind sour
mouth an open book

I'm here, after all this emptying,
not hollow but larger than where I am sitting in this chair,
in the kitchen,
in my drink, my eyes, thinking bigger than
the room, the house, the hill
and away on mountains,
not topped,
I am a foundation for this
spring over the thirsty *****
and yellowing trees.
I breathe
and am released.

Autumn,
birth in the center
dying, the seed
in the wind.

I will continue to gold the slopes
from the apex ****** to open spreading valley
soil budding miracle flowers, months to come.

Now,
I am aging, follow my father
into time.
A river stops,
not at the sea.

Mother, let us comfort
each other.
For the part of you is me seeks healing,
leaking self in the dust,
mixing mud to shape a new face,
a new arm, a hand uncut and able
to give all that is a human.

Am I able?
Yes, I've known the way vines are living upward,
and my seed has again and again
hit the Earth bleeding,
but all I want is a silent cave to watch the birds.

No children spring from me.
No eating, no holding hands like I have done.
I've made no mistakes but one.
To live is a great doubt,
bring my head above water.

Banished, fear in moving any way.
Strange in our doing, we keep up the rhythm,
drive the beasts away until
we're hungry again.

Plant the breakfast,
I'm just now out of bed and in the mood to wait.

Coffee vein lexicon.
Too much
need
percolating
up in my
throat.

Go into money!
there you will find
light,
blinding you to sleep.

Go into death.
There find rest.

Go
away,
away and find nothing
but the going
and the goings on
outside.

Stay with me and love the dawn
breaking so that we may mend it again.
BB Tyler Oct 2015
Blesst are those who move in and out of rooms.
Who make way in the night for sunrise hours to grace them sleeping.
They are the ones to whom this world spinning of people is trusted.

and those who sit outside the spinning,
outside and wetting with the dew every inch of skin
and cloth that they claim their own,
sitting in no throne,
hold no claim over any world or room,
they too are blesst.
They make the Earth to be spun,
to be whole under every star,
breathing and keeping nothing but that dark warm,
forgiving all trespassers, as they are this land,
these trees,
the waters still swirling and sinking into their skin.

All others watch in awe the fire making one moment out of the last, making that past into the next seeing thing shining eyed being.
BB Tyler Oct 2015
*** gave me some loose words that i could spill over into your head-place
see that? dripping down the wall, the leftover space we didn't want but couldn't waste
no haste needed for the telling of time
no truth seeded as i'm bleedin my rhyme
i'm free and i'm mine
says the *** to my head
nothing left open but the door to the bed
BB Tyler Sep 2015
Ripe Harvest Moon,
all the weeds gone to seed,
the pups weaned
at a new home now
in the next valley.

In the waxing follows full,
in the full, the waning.
Fruit in the fallow fields.
Sweet of apple,
wealth of pumpkin,
golden corn.

How blessed are we around this fire to share it?
To howl the umbra,
Earth, the Moon,
flow the blood
round the year,
leaves to roots,
to the ground.

not a sound

The eclipse red dark,
a full month spins
waiting for the light to return,
wraithed in drum-beat heart.

Ripe Harvest Moon,
all the weeds gone to seed,
the pups weaned
at a new home now
in the next valley.
BB Tyler Sep 2015
squinting at the Sun,
rainbows in my eyelash
BB Tyler Sep 2015
Addiction

noun:

a state in which one feels the need to have the last word...
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