Monthly Archives: December 2021

The Arena

How can this be
what I’ve come to know as me
I was so sure that I would be more
This life a bull and I the matador
but, alas, I could not harm such a noble beast

Their broad shoulders bear their own horizon, a mountainous ridge that both beckons and intimidates. Cloven hooves punctuate the battle ground, sure footed and pacing to display their command of the stage.

Flowers fall from the stands, red petaled rain to honor the harsh brutality made flesh. The horned dawn rises over the beastly horizon to wreak havoc on all that hinder them.

I lay my sword amongst the flowers and offer with it my hubris. May they find me a worthy feast.

Summer’s End

A disused spigot stands stoic and caged
the water a stale prisoner within
from nearby there rises a loud voice of rage
and with it a squeal swells from distant swine
the rushing river seen through the long grass
shimmers sweetly in the sun
whispered love in a lost tongue.

A rusted gray truck crashes through the field
a pair of prancing pigs are in pursuit
tall grass beneath old tires easily yields
and the chase continues towards the river
the hefty hogs hobbling – hushed by reeds
whispered love in a lost tongue.

Sprinting streams swallow all in their motion
the gray truck careens beneath the current
and the pigs are pulled with the undertow.
Looking over the bank – tired and sunburnt
a herd on the riverbed catches light
shimmers sweetly in the sun

Anguish permeates the hot summer air
the grassy plumes are caught in the turmoil
hiding some hurried glimpse of you in there
drifting between focuses – listlessly
dancing with refracted light and soft winds
whispered love in a lost tongue
shimmers sweetly in the sun.

Quechee Sunset

Thirty feet below
the water is shallow
                              desperate for rain
               but it is too late now
the water was gifted to the trees
                              again

The sun will soon retreat
               as would I if I could
awash in reds and yellows
               blanketed over blue spectrums of darkness
where the day is behind me
               the night rises

Atop the mighty legs of Quechee Bridge
               the riverbed looks terrifying
                              the days end beckons
               jovial voices call out from the path above
with a jest of intent to end me with it

               But the water is shallow
                              and I don’t know the difference