Used to

the used to crumbles
a mere shell on it all
it had been a plastering of mud
the dried encasing
that protected the mundane from chaos
but all mud will dry
all mud will crack
and the used to becomes ever so fragile
so easy to shatter at any moment
or as it often does
is picked away at piece by piece
by the ravens of progression
in their ravenous appetites
for the shiny present
and their wings the color
of the unforgiving unknown
as each piece is plundered
the used to can grow new skin in time
in its reptilian virtues
but chaos can seep in so easily
when the shell shatters suddenly
with little time to renew its boundaries
bringing the routine to its knees
and begging for forgiveness
from the unforgiving unknown

March melt

rising from the progression into the north
the smells live again in wet earth
and mud is tracked in from the thaw
even dry grass caught within the paw
the branches swell with anxious sap
yet a little too soon to awake from their nap
and cold crow calls give way to larks
while morning sings again with robin barks
the frost still seals the soil's purse
but all in all it could be worse
as the solar dance moves midway
and winter night surrenders to summer day

Chandelier

I spoke my words
cast my spell
while piecing together
a sun of broken glass
so the light could seek you out
in the darkness that blanketed my soul

in the company of smoke and spirits
each fragile silica shard
cut through my flesh
as I bound them with serpentine wire

their cobalt crimson amber envious
translucency melded a chain
that tethered me to seeking you out
in the abyss we had fallen into
when the stars were young
and time was only a twinkle
in the eye of chaos

it was that chain bound by my words
that led me on the path
lit by the promise of you

Omar

he defined grandpa as
OshKosh overalls and cowboy boots
topped with a cap from the local Co-Op
and aftershave of Prince Albert

he defined grandpa as
a stoic face gazing out the picture window
interrupted at times by an ornery smile
and smoke-choked laughter

he defined grandpa as
tending after peach trees and
horses and cattle all the while knowing
care reaps the best rewards
and showing his grandchildren
lessons through experience so as
they'd never touch an electric fence

he defined grandpa as
being there an expression of love
and that words aren't always needed
for his actions said it all

he defined grandpa as
giving it your all is a way of life
that doing what you can for others should be second nature
and that you should always take some time to fish

he defined grandpa as
you can always do more than one thing at a time
such as rolling a cigarette while chasing coyotes
through a rougher than rough field in his greyhound packed truck
and that a steady diet of fried eggs, sweet tea,
and Betty Lou's hot rolls can get you almost to ninety

he defined grandpa as
sweat can pay your debts
dirt can cleanse your soul
that you take the road your given
and to hold on until you have to let go

Screaming of seeds

it burns within the earth
within the heart of the molten iron
that churns upon itself
it affects each and every molecule
pulling them in and letting them go
to bind and create with every destruction
each building wave
each crumbling mountain
each burning forest
each opening cocoon
it is the progression of these forgotten gods
who are no different that the children
who mourn their classmates after a shooting
we put a face to it
to claim it as our own
to try to harness and understand it
that which keeps our clocks ticking
and our minds hungry for more
in the consumption of our debts
pours forth the need to return the favor
and in there it lies too
in the planting of trees
and holding of hands
in the teaching and listening and laughing
and knowing that the tears
will nourish what's yet to come
there it plays in the warmth of May
where dreams bloom and fruit
and people remember they're all from the same place
and there it slumbers in the winter ice
where it stings on numb skin and stale thoughts
and can be heard by those who listen
as the screaming of seeds

Kansas Day

he could not bleed anymore
his heart grew cold and empty
the wind had battered him black and blue
that's why he left you
his heart had bloomed
in the desert sanctuary of the moon
where sun had given him shine
but the wind had withered that flower true
that's why he left you
bitter nights of entertaining solitude
wore his weary thin
until the tethers snapped
and the wind blew them through and through
that's why he left you
light had grown in the distance
a beacon to his heart that grew and grew
one the wind couldn't blow out no matter how hard it blew
that's why he left you

Moon song

a sliver of you
in these jasper laden nights
your reflection
outside my window
the numb and barren light
kissing ice with dust
gleaming in your eyes
the thousands of thousands
looking up, looking down
staring into each others souls
the chasms we fall into
the moments we can't recall
but set to the rhythm of emotions
to ride each tidal wave
from tides you bring
when there's more than
just a sliver of you

Sunbest

there was golden champagne splendor
in the sky he recalls
when he was a child
and the storm had passed
and the winds left the sun
dying on the horizon in the west
yet it erupted onto the canvas
in the eastern darkening sky
onto those clouds that had left
the buffalo grass wet under his bare feet
and along with the praise
the hymn of the toads bestowed
upon the lofty celestial shell
his soul remembers pouring out
into the awe of the hues and light

Kearny Co church

Revelations was easy enough
for him to understand
the abundance of sagebrush
which is closer to wormwood
than the culinary sage, always
reminded him of the starry angel
who would make its presence
known at the end of the world

and the endless horizon on such
spacious stretched homeland
gave him a sense of the world's end
for couldn't he fall into eternity
just beyond the shifting sandhills
couldn't the world turn upside down
and he drift into the enormous
blue bowl always held overhead
couldn't the relentless winds fill
his sails to carry him into the bright
summer night sky filled with dying lights

all these revelations were better
written on his flesh in life-inflicted
scars, in debilitating trauma that
causes him to pause at different moments
to ponder the wonder of what's next

Dawn on Cliff Ave

dim light on the cracked pavement
a dismal reflection
of the faded pastels
in warm hues spreading
across the sky above
burning tree remnants collect
along the dark iron tracks
and concrete walls
still more warm contrast
against stark cold
of early frosty hours
the gray may cloud the day
and hide away
the light once known
yet among these
numbing and
detrimental prospects
hope rises
on the horizon still
and life pushes forward