sacred spot

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death does not bother here

into boiling tar black
sprinting

I cannot see
touching the earth

silent my naked feet
through ant mazes
I follow you

pounding blood
wets my soul
blindness does not hold
ears to deafness in this place
nocturnal rants plow over
rusting tears
I do not reach you
your flesh vanishes
wind through light

shadows no longer
chain dreams
to this hollow
its emptiness curdling
the stench sour
senses abandon
memories
chill my heart
I can no longer find my way home
I do not want to
death does not bother here
crown-monster-edits
sketched during road trip to New Hampshire

vague recollections

when we were at our worst
the best we could muster were vague recollections
our last bitter months spent
immersed in the sickness we’d become
like so many others
we choose to throw up our hands
and wave that featureless flag
rather than fight the disease
that had invaded our trust, plagued our bond
I changed the locks
praying a shiny new key might open another door –
far away from our self-imposed afflictions
while your damaged heart became wanton host
to modified digital faces with piled-on profiles
in a very short while
what had once been genuine longing and unchecked passion
vanished
like a promising placebo chased down with vodka

swirl skating

swirl skating

how to stop missing you

How to stop missing you
I’ve no idea
Don’t want to keep thinking
how much
We are here
then we’re not
The concept makes complete sense
practical really
My head wraps around the saneness
of the notion
Not enough room for everyone
Sustainability is not possible
Resources will crumble

We must be but a bit of space
a snippet of time
It’s universal law
It’s worldly wisdom
And all that shit
Logical
Practical formality
We are here
then we’re not
That’s all there is to it
Seize the moment
Grip your lover
Hug your child

How to stop missing you
I’ve no idea

I am here
but
you are not
for all its logic
I cannot stop crying

Dancing Flames

Dancing Flames

dancing flames published before, fire for cold is warm for life

Ice Mountains

I sometimes, well who am I kidding, I often reread my words thinking exactly that
what am I thinking
what am I trying to get at
sometimes
I don’t appreciate the kind decades
generous, in fact
as I’ve had them
to write angst when I’m happy
create euphoria when I’m blue
mold dream sequences I dare not live
in both words and colored shapes
often content in my ability
to be discontent
moody
spoiled
the excuse
the “creative” mind or spirit
instead, the reality
human with the privilege of life
I write this with the clarity of a gorgeous sunup
and a cool affirming breeze wrapping my fingers
now set upon my pricey laptop

the local paper this morning
a continuation of an accident report
three died in a nearby town
driver’s ed car and a tractor
an intersection
teenagers
two at the scene
one this morning

beyond grief
is loss
young loss
beyond that

turn the page
ice mountains high as the Rockies
chasms six times deeper than the Grand Cranyon
Pluto artfully sculpted

may these young souls
touch beyond ice mountains
their vibrant spirits
forever reside
in the living
with the privilege
to do so

hearts out to them
families, friends…
wood hole nymphwoodhole nymph breaking from birch tree bark
created over the last three days – mixed media

Slowing the Speed Dial

Your name remains
though you have gone
The number reaches
but not your arm

ear to resin.

I hear your voice
I see your face
Clutch the receiver
connecting to

ethereal digits.

Scroll the list
You are there
remaining present
memory stored

calculated bytes.

I puncture delete
claiming the erasure
Pressing onward
a dark mute note

accepted hollow.

Sunset next
I call your name
I hear your voice
I see your face

tears expunged.

Spaces open
the sunrise here
a valiant burst
of cleansing warmth

a new day…

Robin's Eyes/Prisma

Robin’s Eyes/Prisma

May you dream from a place of warm memory…

Incomplete sketch published on previous post, fitting for this one.

Getting Ready to Leave

My Friends,

The warm door sweeps across the welcome mat
light spills out the snow-stained windows onto the walkway
It’s cold out there in the dark
Looking back
familiar laughter seeps out the cracked seals
like chimes in the wind
beautiful images tucked into the pockets of her travel coat

The warm door gently closes
she walks above the snow
and slips away into the night
moonlit chimes accompany her slippered feet
her thin hands slide into her travel coat pockets
caressing the memories
as the walkway disappears

Deer Friends

Deer Friends

May you dream of your warmest memories and hold them tight…
For Aunt Nina