Young man opens his mouth

And god spills forth

In rage and solemn fire

To cleanse the earth

And we were too stunned

To tell him the secret we knew

That children should not be wise

Sit and wait for time to infect;

But we were wrong…

That it was always youth

That spoke untarnished truth

And old age that corrupted

With cynicism and pain

Like candle soot on paintings

Hiding the bright new brushstrokes;

Don’t listen to the dead

They have nothing to offer

Lend your ears to the newborn instead

For they are filled with life

In abundance.

The rain starved soil

Can crack and dry out

If it’s not careful

And the wind will lift it

To far away places

Where all is loss

And scratched up blind faces;

This is why we plant

This is why we nurture

For shade and binding root

To keep us in safe spaces

And surround us with the familiar

In the dark

Of the early waking morning

The empty, feral world can be

Whatever you need it to be

As it waits cold and quiet

For your warm brushes

To paint the day’s story

Into place…

Where is the west

Hidden within me

That we would gather our belongings

And head there

Seeking fortune

And newness

On the shores of the ocean distant?

How far must we travel

To find a metaphor

And sit beneath its shade

Choosing our new names

For a new world.?

We might become pioneers

And find lost sunset places

New soft lit hidden spaces

To be who we always knew we were

After the journey ends.

Some people tear

That that black will out

And healing might seep in

While for a time

They walk about

Like the living dead

Until they come back to life

As if waking from a bad dream

One seeks joy

One seeks peace

One seeks love

Once abundant

Now oasis

In the dry places

Let us rejoice

When they are found

And store up

For times of drought

For times of loss

That we move beyond survive

To a place of thrive

Along a river that always flows

Pictures provide

Proof of a past

Hanging on my wall

Evidence in frames

That what I am

Has been what I was

And thus hope

That perhaps

I will be

That perhaps

I will remain me

For a while yet.

This heat has made me

White with twisted rage

And i can’t walk straight

For my bones are melting

Beneath the ashes of my eyes

                                      Look,

I am a shotgun blast

A lost boy screaming

Coming for you…

Wrong and inevitable

Are we

Invisible ink

Written into the world

And brought to life

By a small burst of light

To be seen for a moment

A year or ten or

Maybe thousands

Bound to fade

Leaving only impressions

In time?

I said

Hello beautiful

To the shadows

That circle my world

Surely fully formed

Somewhere else

Except here

They’re black and grey

Charcoal angels

Flying about my head

Singing in a minor key

Songs written

By a hand like mine

With words

That would make you cry

If you could feel

Just a little