Which context today
Should I stay;
Which tiny hurricane
Should I swallow,
Avoid?
Which hope touched;
resurrected,
put aside?
Which hour counts,
Really?

Why do I feel this way?

A mixed bag of seeds,
A field of prairies.

Travelers, rogues,
Clumps of clay,
Rooted mats,

One day,

Hairline roots
Cause thin cracks
to disappear…

Running along faces
Of unstable platforms
Of false understanding.

Cycles of hours
Rotational moods
Uplifting and sapping.

Structure and reach,
Expression then catch,
Only then words breech.

Throwing a cube
Through the air,
One point always leads.

bells of new days,
big thick bells,
collide with suns,
reverberating
all that was.

There is no sigh
large enough,
someplace to rest.
Go ahead now,
breath a breath.

No more living
in between the sounds,
hide instead,
obscure,
yet in open ground.

Rotund excuse
Proliferate expounding
Dryness

Capillary action,
Pressure system,
Abound

Keel more, giving
Sound reason
Kicking sounds

Effervescent slide
Exquisite course
Of never mind

A thousand ways
To speak along
Alas…

One word, one song
Called ‘getting over’
lalala

the road that always leers,
head turns, favors, cheers -
to look for some agreement.
a wax encasement enclosing gears,
some movement, or not,
grit against a rapid churn.
just keep showing up...
"let this happen to you"
i said on a heartbeat,
good advice, except the mirror.
Once a wild one,
isolated in the cold plains wind,
yet lapping sunlight.
Now so jammed,
to wait for something cold and hard,
to press a living button,
to shake these personalized
delusions we all fill up
just passing time.
And open hearts hidden
behind a clamping jaw.
Since one person wants the window open,
and the other wants it closed.