Aware

Half-frozen mud, cold bracing air
A wind that makes my neck aware
That leaves torn from the tree will die
These poor gray strays who tumble by

And like the ghostly light I seek
The morn recedes behind the line
Only of chance to risk a peek
At drifting lives
Like yours

And mine


 

(“Aware” – 11-19-2014)

murray river basin

the earth is thirsty

the earth is thirsty so am i
out past where we all come to die
alone and without celebrant
a wastrel bard irrelevant
the half-cocked eye the shaking lip
fair captain of a foundered ship
the desert plain of fated need
to thirst to ache
to drop

to bleed

sunset-colored dreams

she was as water endlessly surrounding
all that he’d ever thought to entertain;
as one who stretches ever for enlightening
and self-absorbing, always, just the same –

the light came onto, into her in gladness,
the dawn became the dwelling place of kings:
and every bit of money went as quickly
as they could turn it into newish things –

of happenings, they knew but very little;
they cared for nothing of the world’s bright schemes —
for they were all that was, a sort of ocean
of lunacy, and sunset-colored dreams

The Wind Across the Woods

The wind across the woods is in her ears;
The morning’s full of spirits out of place
And time, a sort of fence built out of years
That makes this darkened world a spectral place.

She pulls her jacket tight against the cold,
And leans against the wind to help her start.
This temporary dwelling’s gotten old;
Another harbor’s waiting for her heart.

The air is pushing, whistling through the trees.
They move in silhouette, together yoked —
Her skin is stinging with the early freeze;
This place attacks her, sure and unprovoked —

    And yet, it serves to prod her, help her learn
    We all must carry this weight, in our turn

Lyrical December

In lyrical December,
The wind sweeps down in waves:
We walk amidst the houses huddled
Up against each other —
Just us against the weather.

Along the path, the powder stacks
In piles and in drifts:
Inside, we light the fires of
Our hopefulness, and music
Swirls around like winter snow.

There’s stew upon the stove, that we
Sit down to eat together:
In lyrical December, it’s
Just us against

The weather