Adam and Eve were stick figures Drawn by god in their infancy Amid Green Triangle trees And a yellow circle sun A blue River Ribbon Flowed out of Eden A sable Serpent was easy to draw (the red forked tongue came later) The plot thickened, an apple, ruby red And a gray rock, for Cain
Cookie-cutter roofs defy the critics With block conformity And mass appeal. The HOA rules Middle Earth With threats and fines. Cracked foundations flood Carpets and faux wood floors With sewer water. Middle Earth huddles Under red tiles During wind, rain, and hail. Odors of cooking and nature callings Stink rooms with familiar blends. The widow
To be beautiful. Delicate. Decorative. Never anything less. Appearance is value and value is existence. Silence and smiles never quite reach the eyes that shine so polished it exposes the eyes of the beholder who holds something so precious so fragile it must be hidden from reckless grasps. To sit and look pretty no smudges
I watched your body slowly putrefy as mutated B-cells Dispersed their alien poison into your pristine ecosystem Steeped in stress, a life out of your control. You ignored the initial warnings Denied the changing climate within The fire on your skin The flood across your landscape. The inescapable truth made you recognize A need to
Here is a space Tucked in the trees Where water flows freely and pure Children dance to the sounds of the wind Truth follows us The teachings of those who came before Are passed down Over and over Colours change as years pass Love flourishes and thrives Sunlight dances on the water Twisting and twirling
As I sit on my chair at the desk near the doorThe curtains drawn completelyI hear a voice below the nightIt’s speaking to me. Nature’s greatest song is crickets’Haunting, taunting cryThe bass of a neon highwayA songbird in the sky. Coyotes or frat boys howl at the moonIncredibly out of tuneBeethoven’s Symphony No. 7Plays in
In the forest a bird rises from anold and lengthy tree.As it beats its feathers it looksout from there to see The mountainside, so wild and greenthe bird begins to sound.Its voice is a crescendoThat is heard from all around. From its perch the bird can see aLabyrinth, frigid dark.This frosted crypt with cobalt veinsLeft
in the wake of your leaving the sun continues to riseplayfully peering out between peakspromising the return of soft spring wind.it warms my bonesbathes my skin in sticky sweet goldchases away the winter shadowsthe chill you left behind. in the wake of your leavingmy heart beats againunfrozen after monthsof tumultuous snow.it nourishes my rootsbrings colour
motherpleasei have prayed and prayed and prayedfor solace of the softest kind.of honey-sweet retribution.i ampressed,palms downto blue-cold tile.a statuesque relicof pity-poor faith.the stars have no answers.unwavering,blinking down with soft set eyes.there is no salvation herefor sin wrought skin.when god does not answerthe devil finds me in the depths of the nightlays my head in his
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