Clear Eyed Cowboy

The cowboy
Looks tired,
Thin
with his tall white
Stetson,
hair pouring out
each side.
His smile sincere,
and his eyes are
clear,
And as wide open
As his penchant for coffee,
blue jeans, and hurtin’ music.

Continue reading →

How can we not share

and let the mists hide

what is there.

Coming soon…..

The gulls, the hawks
The hacks, the doves,
Wings weaving
Feathers all fluttering,
And even
an errant burnt
autumn leaf or two,
Are all flying
angled against
The winds.
And the rains come
Pouring down,
sweeping,
under a darkened sky falling where they will to, and must,
On city towers and humankind alike;
But detained
from the rain,
Are a few rare pockets
of sunshine
In a few certain
and in some
ceratopsian corners
of a bustling
pre-election, predilection
cosmopolis.

Voice

The voice
Of the waves is thunderous
Under the unseen
Animations
of the wind.
The voice heard,
The presence felt.

1. It’s a myth
2. It’s a story
3. It’s a mythic story
   Come and sit
   Beside me
   And I will tell you.
   And you can tell me
   If it’s a myth
   Or a story
   Or a mythic story
   With a grain of truth
   Or
   Whether it really
   And truly

   is the truth. Continue reading →