Something New....Someday

North and Rambling. Finding fragment of mollusks left over from the days of the deluge. Snail shells scattered like seashells, crisp and white in the dirt. Spring has awakened the earth, and she bats her eyelashes Fresh in the form of Parsley and Pine, Cliff Rose and Clover. There is such a stillness and spirit to voice such a song. It slips through the trees as ephemeral light and rain, covering the leaves. An animistic spirit, And a spark of freedom, fragmented and fallen Crashing like entropic waves over my face. Southward in a desert autumn, Passing through the Ponderosa and Pinion. I am held between the fingers of this blooming mesa. Sipping on an herbal brew of Ephedra, Juniper berries, and Sage. Bitter Tea, Astringent and Stimulating The colorful tastes of the painted desert. A Cattle carcass erects a cage. Picked clean by Vultures, Ravens, and Magpies. Housing Prickly Pear, Yucca, and Barrel cactus in a morbid desert garden bed. Waking up to the li...

The wind brings the water, Brings earth into soil. birthing life from the womb Love's a chore And life's a chore And a meditation on longing The wind brings the water, earth's transubstantiation of fruit reforming back to the body of god What are now many drops of rain Were once a unified cloud. Once a bottomless ocean. Even now, as I sleep in the deep currents, I remember the many drops of rain it took to get me here.

Some people have dream jobs, And Dream cars But I just want my dreams at night. Some people have crazy dreams, And some people have lovely dreams. Dreams of passion and dreams of getting out. I just day dream, and think of leaving. I Dream of having that one woman that completes me and the daughter that is created from us. Because my dream is passion, and my dreams are about the rains that fertilize the earth we walk on. My dreams are about the death of the individual. Their skin devoured by bugs and their bones petrifying under pressure. My dreams are silent like the lifted veil of a bride, whispering “I Do” My dreams still lay dormant and asleep. In my dreams I’m not quite awake. Some people dream of a house with a white picket fence. I Dream of the freedoms of the river current and longing.