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.

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

One hundred days of violence
thousands slain at the feet of their lord
they prayed to something behind the guns and swords,
                                                                     but
faith kills compassion

Had they been willing
to embrace their community
they could have avoided this reality,
                                                            but
compassion kills faith

And dogma takes precedence
when Hitler targeted the Jewish people
he did so with high praise from the sovereign cathedral
                                                  because
faith kills compassion

But many ignored the laws of man
forsook the appeal of their gods
turned their back on the good book,
                                                       because
compassion kills faith

Still today disciples call for burnings
for differences of skin, love and opinion
as if their hate claims sole dominion,
                                                     surely
faith kills compassion

We must take care
to remove this weed by the roots
lest it throttle our garden
                                    surely
compassion kills faith.

The hand is shaped for our control
to grasp the world by its soul
subdue the earth from pole to pole
take from it that which we extol

Night weeps o’er the work of day
the flora and the fauna we slay
all the minerals and gasses
the blood and sweat of its masses

This is how we found the world tamed
how we reconceived its intent
found new ways for it to be framed
and took from it without consent

Should we ever deign to let go
wrench our hands from the throat of life
let it grow beyond what we know
all will be led to relief

The harder you wield existence
the more it fights back
release the grip
let it thrive in rococo

A life unfettered
knows no bounds
It makes space
for wherever it may go

Though it may overwhelm

It will carry you to fantastic places

As long as you don’t hold it down