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.

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.