my trains are always leaving
whistles form a lament
we’re all alone
we choose our landscapes
brick or loam
the rest is smoke

When time is set aside
for hardware and recipes
and difficulties arise
remembering why
you liked burning wood.
It’s no joke to swallow whole
days filled with hazy moths.

Want outshines split fence posts.

Walking perimeters concentrically
tallying stumbles along a path
kicking licked stones aside.
Nothing epic in a cooling pie.

Playing numbers eschewing letters
in games too painful
gaining trail dust with shuffling.
Alone is not better with large bites.
Perhaps that’s reason enough
meeting and parting
soaring hawks marking our time.

hazard a breath

crimson dew

burnt leaves

choking reach

afraid to look

autumn mirage

crumbled steps

rising spire

 

blinking cries

hidden corners

cool moss

brittle path

whispering water

yellowed leaves

pressed veins

silent growth

 

holding breath

taking a step

lingering smoke

woven stares

tipped to tears

careful touch

disappearing

invisible embrace

 

treasure buried

weakened sun

tangling fingers

far away path

gripping

feet mired

smiling shell

imaginary fortune

his sleek dark feathers

lead tears

to float on a wind

remnants of another season

meant to be left behind

hush

sweet, my heart

ghosts are not meant for daylight

or for the living to cling to

clever guide

pulls and twists

until eyes look forward

instead of behind

love

with no thought

to time or space

follow light

a new landscape beckons

out of time and place
remember lush flowers
tucked in laughing curls
echo shaking
through touch
through quiet forest light
birds’ hymns

bliss

sweet air floats
courting river’s current
layered rock cradles
hand taking hand
lips finding purchase
out of time and place
remember yes