true

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in the morning of peace and know
beside the line between now and float
the trees felt their wait and reached
above how, into the hold of sun before
and clouds they became always and
in the soul of black and white time
grew into glow and everything was true

between believe and break

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in the days between believe and break
the sun rose dark and painted shadows
trees bowed and let go of all they held
bare fingers pointing any and no way
and all that was once held together by time
let fly the wind and broke into pieces
of nothing sinking deeper in the deep within
and cracks spilled hope in freezing drops
bottom chased chained below motionless
curtains drawn, she never left her bed.

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. 

Silent with Wonder

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In the tenderness of morning, the fog

wraps the horses in promise and paints

the yellow blanket soft.  The horses

speak their quiet, feel their Spring,

dance their velvet noses in flowered field.

Silent are the pines, watching

through dew drop eyes, hanging

their needled peace in the foggy morning.

Early morning hoof prints mark time,

yellow daybreak, flowery fog of pineful watch,

and I am silent with wonder.

Sun through Bare Trees

Waits, until it can push past

wooden fingers that reach up

to block it, and thick, heavy arms

it swings as the winter breeze blows

cool.  She’s trying to shine on me, as I

sit on the edge with arms wrapped

tightly around folded legs.  Trying to reach

me, to warm me, but angry tall tree

hovers over, threatens to keep her from me,

with his rough, old body and so many limbs.

I hear his sinister laugh as I shiver, but she

doesn’t give up, she rises higher, where

his bony fingers can barely reach and peeks

through, glowing.  The tree sags a little,

knowing the sun will win, and she bursts

through the holes in his bare branches

and I am warm enough to turn

my face skyward and smile.

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Everything Burns

What am I doing? Standing here 
in the driest, cracked land that hasn't felt 
water in months.  I breathe in red dust and choke 
it out, blink it from my eyes in reddish tears. 
Everything snaps when you walk on it, 
including me, and I throw a match just to hear 
the crackling, to feel the burn of every smoky 
breath that seers my throat, to taste the soot 
of angry regret.  Everything burns. 
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