It's a floating world

Weightless

Lighter than a shadow

Whirled away with time

The distant echoes

Of memory, of self,

Buried in a gust of wind

Thansgiving:

Gratitude that we are created 

To participate in the mystery

That includes us

Their eyes are shining

Night shining

As they feast upon flesh

Feral their eyes

Shining in the night

While feasting

The Hunters (after Brueghel)

They are anonymous

Until they are not 

Sloping downward

Toward the unguarded village

The quiet village

With skaters on ice

The anonymous faceless men

Until their faces known

Sloping downward with a pack

Of obedient dogs

While crows inhabit the trees

Take possession of land, of a roof,

Or swoop down toward the quiet village

And the oblivious skaters on ice

Cold world on a hot day

A fallen sparrow in a park

Ignored and left to die

Until it summoned its

Will to fly

And left the grounds

To people and their

Amusements

The end of wanting

Is it bliss

Or a dull satiety

Is it the void

Of a eunuch's peace

In a brothel world

There is no cliff

In the shroud

Of fog

No edge 

Upon which

A foot will falter

There is no time

When the birds fly off

And the ancient park is locked 

Forever 

All fantasies you say

As you move forward

Through the darkening land

Wandering

Under anesthesia

Through a village

In deep suburbia

An old bookstore

A candy shop

Too many traffic lights

For the empty roads

A big clock telling the time

Waiting

Until the pain begins

Toothless in the void

Take a big bite out of nothing

Through blood moons
And comets that disquiet
Or meteors that threaten
To rend the planet with their
Heavy showers
Through acidic, scarring speech
Or blood violence
To make the earth ashamed
It ever gave birth
Through baseless hatred
That burns with endless fire
I come to you and look in your eyes
I see your tender smile
And hold your face in my hands