Flat boxes of fiveses and sixeses
minuteses of sleep
wrapped with gray burlap readies to tear
bound by loopy stringses
spring
Silence at the western fenceline
We stare at the lines, divided,
you and I stark and misguided,
worn dull by day’s exhausted breath
we move on by hope of certain rest;
by day and by step, with faith our bequest
and by trust, and what it will cost us.
April silk
Lilac leaves are the surest sign that spring has stopped teasing. Although the flowers rarely last more than a week here, the leaves possess their own silky beauty. I’ve photographed them many times over the years, and they always draw me back for more.
At first blush
In the event of a falling sky…
Her blue heart
Once kissed
Perchance to dream
Paused glory
The weak construct of flesh, this abstract defiance,
reliance on the skin of want, of evergreen,
bold for a moment, then humbled,
the impalpable heart lay upon crossed swords.
Words of comfort and distilled pity mean less
than the soft-boned mortality; the only strength
is what it gives, why it lives in paused glory.
secrets
Ordinary Handsome 