Hands to feet

these weathered hands
can't release their wear
each crease of skin
each scar of wound
each mole
each age spot
they form constellations
recounting this life
held in these hands

these battled bones
can't hold onto
what was never theirs
they must rattle
in the constant wind
play a chime
high in the tree
they were hung in long ago

these worn out feet
can't find their path
each turn they've made
only to find a dead end
and they continue on
to the end of the circle
and to wherever
dead may be

Fireflies

how we've become
the fireflies
when the sun has sunk
past the horizon
to leave a blank
black canvas
for all of our lights
to shine against
all with our own
blip of phosphorescence
of existence
the glimmer
of glamour
in that single second
of light in the dark
the excitement
enchantment
hope and awe
when all these
momentary
here I am's
sparkle in the
nothingness of night
each a star
whose light faded
well before life
began for us

Blank

simple thoughts

darts thrown with a chance

to pierce some inspiration

but what can grow

when the trees are

in a constant fall

the earth tugs too much

and water within

the veins and veins of cells

weigh just too damn much

simple thoughts

are flightless birds these days

perhaps frozen at

one of the poles

or scorched in savanna

either one is appropriate

for this death too near

yet still waiting in the wings

Lawrence

in dreams I've found

if you state the town

you happen to be in

the locals will laugh

seems to be a ludicrous

idea to dare mention

the locale your located in

so I chose to tell these

denizens in their hyena

states that if it was so

laughable to state their

home's name that I

would call them all by

some other name than

what they go by

the first was Chip, and

then a Ted and Sky

until at last a Bud rang

out from my mouth

they asked me what

made me think of that

name of all names

I shouted pot and that

was even more laughable

than mentioning this

town I happened to

spend my night's sleep in

Sum

the float of fragments

the boundaries within borders

the severed

the dislocated

the lost

time gnashes at the whole

to erode the stone into sand

and cast the grains into 

the deep beyond the sky

our broken bodies are laid

into earth to be crushed by its appetite

and disassemble into the remains of the soil

we leave bits of ourselves with that time

and this event

and that person who we never knew

and become the stones becoming sand

surrendering ourselves to the inevitable

of never remaining wholly as is

those pieces we were

those pieces we remain

as they become more than we are

as they become the sum of our selves

The zone creep

not that it needs to be mentioned

but it's not looking good

especially when no one

seems to be able to agree

or perhaps so eager to ignore

the truth staring us in the face

all I know is there's certain

plants that will grow where I live

that weren't able to

when I first started gardening

those twenty some years ago

regardless of media battles

of who reports which story

to support whichever agenda

I know that winters have warmed

overlooking those with interests

to back the use of certain industries

and their use of alternative facts

I know that rainfall has changed

its paths and frequencies and forms

we've always lived on a ticking bomb

this world spinning out of control

and life has always been a risk

existence a gamble with each and

every choice we choose

but choices are running out

as the ticking hits the accelerator

and hopefully we can find peace

with what we've done and

what we continue to do

Brain chains

alas, listing in lost lust

the sink is shipping

the wane is braining

the drain is bathing

into nothingness and

altogether lucid confusion

what is manifested

from too little vigor

over too many days

is a meager vittle

for a ravenous life

and knowing of

not being able to

recall this past week

are the chains

the brain drags

well into the grave

Night sirens

nights of screaming owls

and toads

across the pasture

pitted with rodent homes

I pass with lantern

carefully avoiding the

large yawning mouths of earth

the night still burns with day

and the wind has nothing to say

and dry grassy arms

brush my ankles to pin

their seed to my socks

I walk to leave the range

of the yard light

into the shadows

of the arid night

I inhale the spicy infusion

draped in the air

expelled from the sagebrush leaves

their sighing relief in the dark

the screams pull me further

away from my life

these sirens of the night

Incant

past the empty bookshelf

lays a chamber of reflection

with a single chair

in the middle of deception

the shadows always stir

upon entering the stage

and eternity opens

when the seat is engaged

there are no depths

to any of the directions

tis only endlessness

in viewing the reflections

in patience will be found

the reward of the room

one must always wait

for the moment after soon

a traveler will be welcomed

a traveler will become

no longer will the room

revolve around the sun

the keeper of the time

will conquer what will test

and disappear through walls

no longer needing rest

the keeper's key is green

and floats in the moon

the lock is the mind

the prison is the room

WAWS

waxen lips

an empty kiss

with hollow words

soon to follow

stranger lips

yet once were known

now full of lies

hard to swallow

cracking lips

on tipsy feet

kiss a stranger

in the window

waning lips

become listless

seeing the self

a mere shadow