[faded brights 3]

again, not so fast;

prepared, colors fade into honest thoughts of themselves-

pastels propelled, tired clouds collecting into a sky of

something …

something protected, or maybe even forever.

the weather,

drifting dark into light-

i am traveling through daylight

and fading into a forgiven thought of myself-

shades faith and days we love;

i float along lines of reflective pieces

and welcome the will of the next season.  ~

 

[painted]

theres a sadness in the backdrop to the stars, tonight;

a wetness in the paint – something less finished than i’d like.

the stars, at least, are still stars –

oiled light for midnight, and they burn

and almost seem to blur in a hope- –

God if i could have the strength to cope and know

  that tomorrow will come, anyhow.  ~

[from now]

could have been something you thought of,

could be deja-vu.

finally, it took so fast

getting it all out of you. ~

[slightly acidic]

strange astringent,
a blink of an eye; the water bleeds and the light,
dry as a bone,
ragged and wrung
appears clean, serene, and alive.~

[gravity]

ironing out the inevitable,

the heaviness of metals, like led,

(i can still hear)

sleek chilled water
washes over black coal in the night;

it ebbs, and lets
in the light.

improving the aperture,

the dilution of ink as it bled.

(can’t be far now; so i try my joints:)

i can still feel.~

[peaking]

hands against the surfaces of stone:

the dryness seems fit for the polish of the grip,

as i carry my weight up over the cliff and peer down at the height of my climb.

at some point this must align

with an idea God had in His mind.

this must be what its like to come into ones own;

having full faith that the drift, the down, angled calves, the slide of mud, the catch of my step as i bare down down down …

will not be nearly as trecherous as the lift, the push on angled calves, the slide of mud, the catch of step as i push my weight up over the cliff and peer out at the site of my dreams.

reaching into the depth of fear in my knees, the water up to my hips, i drift with the clutch of a stick;

the dryness in my feet seems fit for the polish of the grip of stone, i chance across a fast-moving water, against the current of time and i think to myself:

at some point this must align with an idea God had in His mind.~

[animals]

honor for the elder;
honor lost to law and lines on contracts
and facts.

an attic scent like damp wood and dusty boxes of pictures; things to help her remember who she is.
despite her demeanor (she claws at the strangers),
she is adorable. and scared.

left here unprepared,

she waits by the door;

waiting to be honored or be spared.~

[rose red]

Approaching the line which isn’t a line afterall,

Water meets dawn,

Still grasping to the deep and turbid why.

If I can understand,

I could get by.

If, …I’d get by.

Surfacing on floating ice,

The difference melts; light reflects

The significance of her cry;

But once its hoped; it saves in notes

Bottles and waves to shore.

Approaching the line; this infinite sky;

Approaching the light; the dawn of a beautiful life.~

[between]

improving the aperture-
the forced light;
the swelling of cells,
the yelling through hell –
years of hell and i widen the lense a bit;
tune into the sound,
my own movements
beating rhythms in the ground.
amid the noise,
i tend to my voice –
a quiet light to resurrect her choice.
still as the will
of the angels strum
along to the
grounds quiet drum.~

[scissors]

stammered by the isolated trees
an empty breeze
a trickle of hope
just to trick to fake the cope
the alone, the unknown
found only by the likeness
of a feather on a breeze
drifting alone on an empty sea.~