Gut

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These thoughts circle ’round
Not quite coming home until
More precisely
Rustled in 
By a dutiful cattle shepherd or the gravitational pull
Of intuition initially dismissed

But that dog in the dust 
He knew 
What I didn’t want to know, I knew
And that summer solstice 
Which is never late
Saw me bow to its truth

Honest Ruse

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Upon what land, what sinking sand
Do your feet stand

When what is true reduces you
To kneeling, sobbing, midnight-blue

Yet fallacy, it comforts thee
From its midst, hope flows gracefully

Finally At Last

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I’d give much, save the sun
To watch what he’d have said -what he did say-
About all this
And where he looked when he said it.

What thoughts too, do the others share from the bottom of their dear hearts
-would you ever share them with me?

You. What about you?
Sit down, slap the ground and bid me come near.
What do you need me to know?