Retreat

On a clay capsule parchement
a dead hum tunes to me
he sills samely sallow sonorously.

Retreat from a flack-maddened clasp of a face
I sit to fill my comfort zone
an unhampered paste.

To sty on my throne
to leave everything alone
That's home

Waiting

The sun of blare

To turn the sight blue

Wheeling around the sky

Waiting for the day to end

Flasks of emotion

laden to the shelves

Surrounding the house

Waiting for the beams to bend

Capitol cities

Towers of might

Challenging heights

Waiting for foundation's rend

Whole-less completed

now full to the brim

Shining dull

Just waiting for the world to end.

Drop

A ripe droplet
Picks up energy
Shifting shapes

Slow harmony
Slights its sailing
Write where to fall

Earth could have smiled
Fall could have pined
Silence, Comforted.







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I've been gone for a week.
With this week away, I've been a little afraid.
I seem to be losing the fresh mind I once had.
But it can't be all that bad.
I just want to keep in the motion of creation.
And never stop.