untied

The muddy winter didn’t last nearly as long

Evergreen grips not quite as everlasting

As the lettered symbol implies

I thought you’d bear the disembodied branches

Want of fruit

Time allowed effect

But your disregard only an excuse for bad consciousness

A heavy memory

Marveled at

summer solstice

Transcendence of light, soft moons 

Their bellies dance, crest over a horizon, like coiling wind 

The winter echoes like barefoot little babies 

A void, but not without 

Wanting, but never grasping 

A prayer of solace placed at the earth 

Golden as gift of and for each other, and for purity, of eternity

Ensconced of space and land 

The work that is long cannot be undone 

red tulips

An alpine lake big enough to sink my teeth into

Debilitating being by way of delusion

Typical of a bank of imitations in memoriam

 Reverberate pulses that do not clearly identify themselves

Won’t behave no matter how I beg

Stirring

Like it also wanders aimlessly

Searching for the makings of conduct  

Time by range

Space by silence

Instead they are letters rearranged

Of an ancient idea

But even the colors are shifting based on the perspective

From which you glance

The angle, the beam, the thing, the curve, the light

If distance retains beauty, purity

Why is longing so dire

Is loneliness worse the closer it is

Aches for a space that existed

Only above the tree line

Without comfort or overcoming empowerment

Instead it arrived with a bit of established hardness

Containers of shell, armor, callous

A barricade, brick by brick

Each representative of another tile

Another devastation

And now they’re covered in vines

A floral scent

In roots

Eventually to decompose, return

I shake them out

It abides, and matches, and mimics the dimming

 The scythe will try to remove the incipient adherences to those limbs

Which cling to the core

 But the new blooms petition for water

Breathe, atmosphere of smog

Commitment that does not equal constraint

I do wish the arc was less pronounced

Story exhausted by living  

the preservation of fire

Does the drought that looms conjure

Wind which will bring the flames soon

The weight of living is carried

Just long enough

And then set down intentionally for a new

The mountain step an overachieving reach of the

Longevity of perseverance

Does love fret of its dissolution into violence

A demolition of sorts

I’m not sure the pieces I gave

And the pieces we dropped

Get recollected

For a translation is just an echo

And an echo eventually recedes

Isn’t it in the nature of conditionalities to whither

We are not inventors of anything

Our independence only a radiation of the Sun

The shape of a feeling

Does the texture make the thing more susceptible to metamorphizing

Tiny granules with tiny arms and limbs infiltrating

Every cavity filled

Until the original things exist no longer

Their internal structure, once an organic myth

Reflecting an eternal rhythm

Has been replaced by a mechanized false design

The beauty does not lie in the details

But in the vacated tenancy of untamed boundless form

How long would you stand

Not knowing who took you

an illustration of rapture

Should we paint the walls

Endearingly commanded love

The kind that comes paired with failure

Souring of a fruit

That turned the skies mood

I choose yellow

The tree so loud it echoed

Stand up straighter

Bouncing off the irrepressible depth of the stone’s hue

Now you’re someone I don’t recognize too

So, do we paint the walls

As if to cover up the present mood

Candence, violent

 As in the old man who hollers time

On every page

Ridiculous wander, love, thanks

Being, acting out space

A con, abhorrent

Unanchored to the sun

Look up at the moon

But her eyes never shifted

From the network of cogs below the rocks

To rise at her expense

The evergreen refrain blows ash

Assumptions of forever

But in the end, everything already exists

Golden Soot

A victim fallen waste to indifference

He swayed side to side

Meandering without rhythm

An archaic tune lost beneath

The hum

A drone

Dissonant

The crests and valleys arriving and falling unnaturally

All unwitting

Praying those ruts in the dirt and gravel won’t linger

I gathered an assemblage of dust

A decomposition of your path

Symbols of courage, or more, your lack thereof

For what could be more dishonest than neglect

The tesselation of those particles infinite and slight

Defiant to form

Remain insignificant and seep back to the mire

A motif wave, return scheduled

With the force of fear, upon stepping out of us

Does it’s landing in the sea echo

Stricken and held by that sunken nod

My own personal looking glass

Still for you, every thankless moment of bewilderment

The gold beckons without inhibition