Sunday, February 24, 2013

Aim of the arrow

I imagine this is fate
fighting against the vindictive winds.
Let the raw air fill your lungs.
Let the sleet sink in
to the heather gray hood.
Looking down
at the dark, wet spots
melding together
across the top of your boots.
You walk in the footsteps
of what remains
of my faded apparition.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

tilt shift

Bright light burn.
Back brain ache.
Black spot vision.
Night rest theft.
Thin wrist twist.
Stealthy bones.
Brittle soul.

Belong to me.

Friday, February 1, 2013


I am one
you are the other.
we are equally 
the same,
we are equally
Troubled by 
the loneliness,
the vastness.
Impassioned by
the insignificant nothings
that pass by along
the edge 
of blue and brown irises.
The highway lights.
The dead rivers.
The flight.
The fire.
The new.