Lamentation

Summer's melody lies silent and unsung in Winter's grave.
My heart lies buried beneath it, under a white more white
Than white; a napkin of new snow covering depths below.


This be our glacier season; a slow grinding of ice mountains,
Scouring down canyons of the soul, sunken valleys of tears;
Deep crease of lamentation, rutted by the sorrow of despair.

Mist

A shroud of cloud crawls along the glistening grounds;
Bestowing them, granting them, deep covering of mist.
Fields that once did shimmer in sunlight die in shadow.


But comes the burning sun again, beauty is renewed.


Too like pulsings of the Sun are throbbings of desire.
New love coughs consuming flares, ovening old loves
To mold besotted new, devouring lost objects of lust.


Nothing new becomes born without burning the old.

Night Wind

An evening wind from far off the Sea is blowing.
Twilight twinkles, bleaching black skies in violet.


Now

Moving out front, and bowing low before a backdrop of stars,
Dressed to splendor; why it's our very own bright companion:


Moon.

Shiver

Azure and a cobalt hue, the sky,
Absent cloud, shivers in nudity.


Such clarity beams lines of sight.
Earth to Heaven, long laser links
To stars, outside a bowl of blue;
Stating an arrogance delivered:


Declaimed declaration. For now,
Here abide.  Prepared to travel.

Futility

There you are where you were;

Nothing is changed whatsoever.
A futility of fear floods America,
Filled to a frozen despondency.


Cornered under a charcoal sky,
Barred violet and darker gray,
Thundering; sending siren call,
Rumbling and complaining airs,


An endless iteration, a repetition
Of that old same hope; of at last:
This be the time; this be the man,
Echo a looping theme of despair.


Best to sail beneath a black flag,
As pirates all.  Or as a privateer
With letters of mark; loyal only
To the holy brotherhood of Art. 

Dance of Death

The legless grow new limbs and dance.
The sightless, sudden are given vision.
Armless stretch, reach way out, grasp
At rings; to ride carousels of the grave.


Purple poplars turned to copper and gold,
High-waisted trees; in Fall, their trousers
Of yellow leaves, twinkling in the breeze,
Swayed-wide, are pulled down in Autumn.


Thrumming dim, white winds of Winter:
Branches thwacking in shuddering cold,
Timid twitching with each blasting gasp;
Din of naked rubbing, twig against twig.


Smeared sun; bare, weak, pans boughs.
So nearly night, glimmering somberness
Open up death's imperium: nothingness.
Swallow day into maws of forgetfulness.


Heat and light hold together.  Join now
With an annealing of fire.  Annihilate all
Of life's desires. Link elbows. Slow step.
High hop! Jump the ditches of mortality.