you are you own

i may place one word

at your feet.

call this your own

you may

believe these words

i gift to you trapping

you are,your

own poem

guarantees are for,the lost,

we live with

belief in possibility

you topple over

black and you in

puddles brewed

beneath you

let your dark side

in(to fear) with

your pathetic
(you are pathetic)
side.

if you wanted

to slice my face- if

you thought about

it long enough you

would hate my face.

giving away your

dark side.

i thought about

the end of it -

lengths and twists

forgot i

would not lend to you

oak oars

by lights to hear

only the story of you-

your hands clenched

and balled to death.

corner stored

I sat to watch in silence,

the resting Wren

who sat to watch in

silence a young pup

who will one day

be without a grand

father clause to come

Happen chance would

be the superstition of any

beast if these beasts knew

they had been lured by morning sun

for rest

i should take

this pill

either or

neither one

or dream

where once trees

of long years were

raised, i have seen

cemeteries in their

place

we make room for

the dead. we make room

for the old. where

two lives tip

we've let one fall

softly

beneath the earth

sunken and whole

i picked from her

the seeds

of long years coming,

the sun children

who would one day

reach out as tall

as their gratitude

beneath them

the rotted earth

the musk and dirt

would lie those

forgotten and unknown

Maggie before the Storm

Take from me
My mind
My soul.
Leave only that
Heart
devoted to you
devoured.

imperious

Still there is steam

left in this soul

Made a murderer

smile with a life

Saved is what i

used to feel i,

used and sold. Used

less and more to get

Solid oak for a smile.

It would be a waste now

to hold your breath.

[y]our house

Across the water

this house

Built in the Spring

The year you left

This house, my companion

my therapy, My competitor.

I have had dinner in every room this

house, the porch being most beloved.

I have the Sun, a guest over for

breakfast, somedays He is late, and we

share white white heat for brunch.

One night, as two moons hung in

the sky, I sat on my gem of a porch

listening, to the water that lies just

across the field.

I heard them first, and soon without

realizing, saw them approach.

I watched them carefully so and I,

Crept inside the house creaking along

the door and boards, and sat quiet and

upright in my chair. admired

of the porch beloved.

The chair I built after this house-

It was meant to be your chair.

With Maggie, my rifle upon my lap, I

sat and watched a friend of Shadow

creep and slide across my floor

They peered around, eyes already

adjusted. Turned a neck and peered through

the barrel of Maggie.

Without recognizing I heard the

scream before the shot.

Blood boiling screams. Shrill, terrible

gargling a curse.

And then, only the water.

The river flowing from the pond.

Before I spread my fingers across their face,

in the Day's longest moment. I

prayed it would be you.

Your god did not hear me.

He heard only the blood river over

wood plains.

sweet dreams

push, sweat, pull, stretch

you open the spaces,

i the eye, wrestling in place

dodging you,

you the stinging and

salty sweat beads shall

be bristled by lashes,

fallen to the floor

each splash a reminder

that true north lies just

between your ear and scalp

each ounce a tribute

of your tongue. an altar

to your lip

each barrel

an affirmation

that i would do anything

for you Maggie.

she was not just

another notch in his belt.

she was another

star in his open sky,

her celestial body

reeled in after the

million year harvest.

it was the hundred year flood

in which she was first noticed.

each one called her dazzling

each one called her reflection -

dazzling

it was a million years before we really saw her.

there were thousands that had her glow,

thousands before her.

there were hundreds that had her charm.

hundreds during her reign.

and ten or more that were more delightful

in their presence than she would imagine herself

i did not enjoy her because she was sacred.

i enjoyed her, because she was not mine.