Saturday, November 27, 2010

Traveler


Thumping dots
thumping and
thumping until a jerk
and a waiver

Blurry stars flashing across
wet windows-
endless black
endless yellow
endless red

Static and
strained ears
straining eyes
lids closing
aching
tearing

no sleep
no rest
no energy

searching for something with
white knuckles
a single foot cramp
and a loose metallic sound
from somewhere behind- getting 
louder with every jolt from
every tar-filled crack

the heat lulls
the cold doesn't wake
the wipers are a dangling pocket watch
and there are 
too many miles to count.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Oakley Hall


A beauty once felt and
shared
began to storm and
its eyes shut
to all but the
mirror mirror
in the bottom of
one and one-half ounces of 
distilled, 
smoked oak with
an amber haze.

Once genius-
falling fast
falling faster
questioning resolve,
questioning relevance,
questioning mortality.

Splitting, then
split.

Unseen were the villains-
once at the dark corners of
creativity; 
haunting in every blink,
waiting behind bloody eyelids -
now they dance in the dripping rays
of over-saturated days.

Death of a force
unlike nature.

A waste.

The tempest worsens and
the eye eclipses the tornado;
the calm
traps-
ensnaring
the wind
the rain
and the lightening within 
a grey prison.

By and by,
the world grows tired and 
deaf to the false promise
of windfall,

then 

by ordinary means
by no great struggle other than
the simple will to live-
to find relevance once more,

the mirror broke
and the beauty now rages stronger,
breeding hope.

It will outlast-
It will endure.

It will share itself with the world
again.