Another day closer
yet the cicada yet
how do you write
again and by
you I mean
the way the
last light bends
slowly around a
lilac cloud as
the breeze gathers
thoughts
as they
exhale
Another day closer
yet the cicada yet
how do you write
again and by
you I mean
the way the
last light bends
slowly around a
lilac cloud as
the breeze gathers
thoughts
as they
exhale
as I write with one foot
stuck in dark mud the other
unresponsive for reasons
I can’t discover lights
flicker throughout the day I’m
more full of fewer thoughts with
air enough for me to ascend
the brilliant sharp mountain
I have kept my pockets empty for
I have kept my back straight against through
years of small work and I
see the check on its way
before I’ve ordered it’s my fault
I should have gotten here as soon as
the neighbors finished dancing
on our ceiling and the sky
changed to business casual blue so with
my knuckles sore I crack another nut
but what if one thought survives
somehow the pressure of space
as the small stones crawl from the sea
wall after the grey is gone
and we work into the overhyped
night sponsored by what you would rather
remember a castle visited
through a dream that always asks too much
In the morning you can reach out and see on the breeze in the mind the damp stone tightening straps keep him in place the pain in his cell the confession conversion meaningless at this point or the life by the sea rough stone grey the children I pushed through and lined up in the earth and the cliffs so beautiful lonely one time one town on the frontier barely built I can still smell new cut wood that simple home sun creeping through seams in the wall another sunny place warm weather sweet breeze always fetching writing down his many thoughts the wine was good
no thoughts but in things invading our planet
what thoughts I can twilight crickets