Rusty Locks

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Some

locks

don’t open

 even if you have the

key.

Life

may have been

too harsh, and

rain,

too many days,

will rust anyone

closed.

You can

climb over gates

but the

lock

will always

stay

rusted shut,

in time and for time,

and only he

will know

why.

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six ways of dreaming

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six ways of dreaming

seeing into being

tasting tomorrow like afternoon tea

becoming the waft of lilies float

in the gold of summer air

entwine the voice of trees and birds

with crickets and colors that soar

and feel the reach of sun’s hold

wind’s brush, gravity pull

within, another way

your universe,

a dream away 

after all

(today I decided to walk out deep into the woods until I came up with answers to the questions I have been pondering. after walking more than 7 miles in the heat, I found myself lying face down in a grove of trees, with no recollection of what had happened. i took this photo then. i was injured, dizzy, and in no shape to walk the remaining 5 miles back to my car, but i realized that, not only did i have no phone reception, but i had no one to call to come help me. somehow i made it out.  i was in the woods for almost 5 hours.  after i got home, i found this poem on my phone. i wrote it today, but i have no recollection at all of writing it. i think that says a lot.)

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eight miles out i fall

black out, wake up

stones edge tree lean

ask. no reception here

no one to call. leaks

from knees, red, and eyes,

clear drops of alone

air crush with know. no

breath. out of focus all.

lost. alone. maybe here

home after all. 

(shadow me)

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torrent churns

(through) green, blue,

lashing upon itself,

reflecting (me) invisible

flow stop crash turn twist

journey  ~ day and night,

(lost) shadows, white water

secrets, sun (behind), and

(always) the pull of the

(drowning) water. (shadow

me)