Here the wind blows warmth 

Even that stainless silence falls buried, under sand and stone

Understand dear

Despite greats heights of lemony grasses

Balmy in the mid morning dew

Are too due their dismembered hands 

Unembodied gods who 

Wield wanescoats 

And weapons worn still

Homeland

It’s the kind of love that touches everything at once

& takes tiny pieces, stolen when it loses 

& he holds all those coffee stain relics 

They’re clay icons on an old embroidered shelf 

Model airplanes hanging in a kitchen

Wings want for animation 

A permanent interlude

They made the handles of cast iron pots 

And egg shelled jars of salt 

Thoughts but not wholes 

He said I’ll carry you to the ocean dear 

But forgotten in the dark,

The flesh was left to seer

What is the house 

With no beings to people 

(when the universe peoples - AW)

But crumbs of wasted days 

Fallen from my bright den fires

Four chords of a half heard scale 

Burnt books I won’t read

Dried okra blossoms and forgotten spoiled dregs

Now a faded edifice 

Ruffles left on the living room floor

Where love lept to the other side 

Gold’s stroked abundance there

Where babes stay born from lightning

it begins at the foot of the last three steps

Mill turned waters

At edges of concrete cliffs

Where our petals found their making 

Mother made reckless

With their heavy babies

Tears hot

Seared pasts forged

Tin or gold plated futures 

Wrought

Our children’s soggy foundations 

Clapped a rhythm 

Of train bells tolls 

Passing by case an expanded

Nature failed to hold still

disciples

The day I was no longer free

Gray greens were mopped from our ocean

So it fell to 

Wonder turned suspicious

And our ties became chains 

A grave’s disease

The day I was no longer free

The clouds fell without feeling

And heaven’s chord lay at my feet

Low brows 

Boughing in the ill tempered breeze

The day I was no longer free

I lay woven 

In my big blue sails

With one foot in that fluent tomb

Unsettled in it’s denial to old ages

And I floated out to sea

atonement (or, a story for people who like to hold apologies)

We write words, letters really 

And the heartbeat rests at the foot of the brainstem 

Angels call on our dirty steps plagued with no ages of wonder

Wilds are crafted and unlikely to echo

The bright light of a morning flame remains horrifying & not a chariot of terrific stature

Guilt carries our laws

Blame came up and painted the rifles

In the honor of the first discourse 

Crumbs of horses

Made embroidered stories 

Steeped for too long

The code of conduct contained tea leave tithes 

And sanguine stains of their sullied spines 

Our linen garments lack repose, respite 

Retreating to the land of action 

To the healer’s house 

But at what cost to a cave of possibilities 

So the ear of pearls came collected 

Presented for a prorate class 

Standing aroused at their cut limbs and salvaged sorrows 

A whole testament of griefs 

A rumpled rug

Sun stained and 

Stroked by rain

A home to to sleepy pilgrims 

Whose bigs boats full of shadows hoped higher 

Ammunitions potential set for the heaven’s stars

But fell short of aim

Targets lost to waters’ edge 

Where, oh God

Do our castle motes find their fill

on anchors

When death bows

Growing older by the hour

The stick it had carried for so long became a sword

Accompanied by thorned, spires, weeds from the dragging 

Before their time was brought to court

Jealous truths made 

Honeyed lips of of liars 

Brought deserts to trade

Signs of days ancient

Are the shepard sailor angels 

In field or flourish 

Judges in cotton, corn

The dirt graves already worn

Anchors buried

By love left behind

a yard of grace

I dreamt our fenced in leaves formed wings today

Their human arrows aimed necessarily 

At dancing laughter

At a worm’s rose fever 

It tramples the reminded mother underfoot 

What is nostalgia if not for Heaven

Run fast enough

Hope carries you before

While leaping high too

To the western pine unwound

For you, the dirt grows tall 

Water and blossom shoots unfurl

Thick for mourning

By what sense is that silence sounded

Being, rocked into an azure bath

Sky bodies in constant motion

Their pressure unsure at their lack of age 

Bewildered by the difference between

A bead of broken glass

& a fur tipped seed

A familiar print plant

Throbbing verdant red

Our petal filled dream

the yellow room

Sun warm 

Spoken inside out 

Letters arrange themselves

Where we had to draw

Our stories 

Our singing sons 

Paintings of what we adored 

Illustrative of the love beheld 

A willing participant 

To a fallen demand 

How must false truths confess 

Their despair 

Bloody misgivings 

Thin asks 

Gray in apprehension 

Spring speaks in his silences

Containers of a tired sort of soil 

Buried at the rapture 

The fruit born is of misshapen pillars 

Of sweetened sap 

How to ask for alms 

Where prophets dance 

In admiration or love?

What price bears the crown?

Knowledge, 

Unredeemed or harmonious

A consciousness hired 

Rueing 

Man’s art of cruelty 

Seeds consumed in the fires

Of old wars we lost 

Casting swords into water

We make mouths

payments

Of what binds us to gravely sin

A house, a home, a man, a win

The bed made that forms a child 

A form that binds within 

What made mouths move our canon’s demands?

I beg the waters to be dead and frozen

But desire often wins 

When judged, tends to lie 

To the child, “do not fear the height”

I ask God what he thinks of this

At its impermanence 

I weep a long while 

wild metals

The sticky sun shone on our world of dust 

And the oak tree leaves hung in love 

A mermaid tavern

The oldest of groves 

A belly full of storms 

Swollen with Jupiter’s thunder

Repose where rain making became dangerous 

When the dusty savages turned kings 

Tin gods, still wild guardians of the veil 

But with fire over fruits 

Nobility reckons 

As flower tossed tranquility fell as leaps of faith 

Crafted by fathers 

Repurposed for burden

They broke our bells 

Decided on and fought for 

Heavy and unanchored, it grew

Chains long having been stolen 

Their reason to carry the sun now 

So the wish worms

Calling to a moving castle 

Long for lost seeds