Timing
I’ve moved toward life and death
At the same speed
Changing vehicles when necessary
Stopping at times
I look around
At the new landscape
Realizing that there is no ground
Under my feet
I must time my fall
And move on
Desperate Fire
The future rapes me
And leaves me
Smoldering like charcoal
Burning slowly
I cling to this red hot ember
Blooming
He is the night-tree
leaning in the meadow
Mingling fingers with the rain
he dreams roses
A Passionate Precession of Crenelated Tessellations
The recursive soul
Passed through crystal chambers
In a faceted eye.
He saw rings slide rings
Through him.
The flute he played bled
Eyes in the night
Traveling rivers red sparks
Sun streak
Lines of time, effortless
A breeze blows
In his sails
Pale stars
First shimmer
Green fading into night
Shadows in firelight
Feathers
Deep the trees folded
Over darker shadows
Without ending.
Myriad Ways 