Groom

I snowball you
You’d thought, just a tiny, white match….
A good, quick fight ‘fore you made your way home
As the avalanche of me comes along
My wayfaring crystalline purifies you
Where now is your old arsenal
Your well-groomed trail?
Replaced by my black-diamond touch

Untouched

So much talk and so many voices

Weighing down and weighing in

But still unanswered to my mind

How many light years and lifetimes

Given how alike and unlike our hearts

Are you from touching me

Of Your Time

Which is better of a tree? Which is better use of me?

To speak of its presence? Saying, “How strong its solemness, standing tall, withstanding all?” Asking you to close your eyes and opine on how it could be that such a tree only sometimes sways and creaks, whilst all creatures around it move about, busily in elsewhere mode?

Or shall I show this photograph…evidencing all my skill? See here my theft of light, my manipulation of mirrors? All the while holding my breath, knowing all I’d offer you was a lie to your eye, an insult to its blessed, innate sense of depth, of dimension?

Walk we instead, up to this friend and touch, even taste its barked bend? It won’t mind! Trace your finger to its roots-there’s solemnity! Follow, follow upward eyes, leaves dancing in the wind. Shading, singing as a friend?

The Fates

Why did you act like water and feel like hands

And I, born thirsty with never a progenitor to touch me

Why did I, the reluctant saint, concede nonetheless to True North’s tug

And you, the only lesser god ever worth worshipping

As Soon As It Could

All of the sudden
The sky appeared
And I touched the shadows against it
It came with a sound
I saw the wind
And I couldn’t care whether facts fit 

In hues of blue
It startled my thoughts
And I knew no lack of the sun
Suddenly sleep
Felt less the to-do
And ’twas clear, The dark had not won

Dawg

Up in years now 
Am I correct or does the grey belie

And with each passing, Day
You touch me more
You phase me 
Damned you

Touch me less
Take your sixth sense elsewhere