i once walked
through graves,
tracing names
on tombstones
faded from sight.
i imagined
bones in boxes,
separated from
their souls, left
to wait for some
kind of return –
to ash? to dust?
or is there only
the shedding
of skin so spirits
can finally soar
somewhere
among the stars?
Tag: life
interior
i wander
the road inside
my mind
near fields
once brazen
with life.
daylight fades
and grey
mist hovers
in the sky,
whispers secrets
softly
to the swelling
shadows.
present
the tires on the borrowed car
cannot grasp the ice beneath
we slide spin turn accelerate
then the dull thud as the lincoln
crashes against a bank of snow
caroms unharmed across the lot
we laugh scream wild with life
until another drift launches us
somewhere we cannot imagine
* From Awaiting the Images
life inside
the machine’s howl
scorches our ears
and minds. everyone
wears the searing scar.
even the deaf weep,
for the machine screams
not across unbounded
skies, but from within.
can we stifle the roar?
can we purge the pain?
we search for anything
to make us whole,
that will not disappear
as its name forms
on our trembling lips.
Awaiting the Images 