Under a darkening sky troubles lift as matter lights. I stand stripped, overwhelmed with insignificance Which strangely holds a dangerous power: careless frivolity tending toward self-destruction. But if nothing matters, then surely, in a substantive universe, everything must. And curiously, under that same sky, nihilistic thoughts reverse. And, what responsibility if each action matters; the
trees painting skies walking under the dimming light looking for relief that we can’t find as our faces darken beneath the pines splintered footsteps lost in the dark a trail of wonders that leaves no mark as feet grow weary and the trees grow sparse the trail trails off like a lonely spark paper dolls
I’ve felt the sparrow panic in my chest against my sternum – a random flutter, beating its wings. Sometimes, flitting beside my throat quavering, making me feel faint. The doctor says my heart’s missing, forgetting beats, tripping, then catching up but, I know it’s really a sparrow stuck there, trapped terrified, like the one you
Although it was our first ascent we chose the route of most resistance Beneath brown cardboard doors you spoke of flowing rearward From far below the surface these things reflected differently and to you our altitude meant little I think you felt the marching feet of wasps and the mounting weight of smaller stones when
An old radio,
trickles out classic oldies.
The soulful sound
of the historical rock
describes the grizzled man
sitting closely to the ancient stereo
in the large dirty ashtray
inducing a bright blue trail of toxic smoke
wafting into the air,
releasing the strong but homely stench.
The unmistakeable smell of coffee looms faintly
like a small beacon of bliss.