Posts
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The Song-Stoked Fire
Smoke curls into the air,
Twirling,
One thread dipping another,
A slow waltz
With some quick steps to spark
The band,
A careful orchestra
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A Fraction of Infinity
I think our world knows
How easily we’re overwhelmed,
How quickly tiny scrapes
Can become full-blown scars,
How we need seven good comments
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Our Own Stained Glass
Fall often
Stains our world brown,
Leaves the color
Of an old ruddy gold,
Their tips dry,
Crinkling with the cold
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Bridges Flushed with Fate
I stare up,
Up at the sky,
At the vast open blue,
The only limit
My perspective,
With lenses ready
To sail me into the dark,
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Parallel to the Sky
Slender limbs fan out,
Parallel to the sky
Instead of reaching,
Wanting to be the open blue,
Accepting that
Though the tree will never
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The Ever-Blossoming Tree
I’m sitting beneath a tree,
Tangled
In the roots,
My fingers gripping those
Of each soil-soaked tendril
Loves
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lonely days
Once upon a lonely time
The moon fell in love with the sun
And so you see they were lovers
Once when they were young
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the language
there is a language,
of clear skies and fluffy
sheep-like clouds
of tree-whispers
and shooting stars.
spoken
in smile-lined faces
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on the grammatically incorrect sign shown to us in english class
-- free would,
& all the spiraling connotations that come
in the afterthoughts of it, the explanations,
the tin bucket full of pieces with bark still on
for no one wants something they could've had.
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