Accessed Abundance

And so the bus took me
Careened into my path and made me say goodbye long before I’d feel able

The undercurrent drew my name
Encircled my entrenched legs, thinking, “Why wait another night?”

Here I live now

No where to sit except pretty
No place to swim but the deep

None ticket nor tide table in hand
These things are not needed

Prospector

I am never going to tell.

I’ll talk circles around them when they inquire and railroad them as they pry. I’ll question their questioning, “Isn’t it obvious?” I’ll ask.

And should they speculate, I’ll lead them on, Westward, with the same come-hither look in my eyes that you gave me.

You taught me what I’ll teach them: Find the glory…find you’re gold.

Mormon Row

With grateful paintbrush in hand, I am leaving space for you

A beautiful a background, careful, I capture the sun

Find now open an area broad enough and close enough to the sky

That your shoulders might fit and comfortably give rest to what is

I know not the shape of you, tho’ your colors, you’ve made clear

Bright-dark weathered patina that complements my tempest greens

Vivid chards of amber to offset my mountainous blues

Your easy frame an open window, a willing respite

Fighting your way, straight to the foreground of me, for me

Withstanding, will they find us, the very wildest of climes

Ascending

In three years too much
Of my ascending pain
Did I shortchange the machine

If I bared enough skin
As I suspect I did
Did I play fast and loose at the game

In the gamble of life
With the risk I embraced
Did I fail to take The One last chance

If the mountains would cry
They would echo my “No”
Did I fail to drink of unseen truths

img_8792

Steel Drum

Tell me again how the sun is ahead
How the radical winds cannot halt it
Show me how I might squint my eyes
So the mountains seem nearer to me
Describe every detail, every edge
The hammered silver crown atop our heads
As the sound of steel drums shines on

img_7543

Foothills

We are beautiful
You know
Out here looking in
But were we 
In there looking out
I doubt
We’d see it 

We’d worship
Screens and glass
Belongings and
Our own stale air 
But out there
Out here
We are beautiful