Living Fossils

Questions don’t always follow with answers.
Dateless fossils with stories to tell.
Enquiries that even the best Scientist
have yet to excavate their reasoning.
In the beginning when the sun was closed
and before time was to begin again.

Searching for what was lost as if finding
it would bring some form of resolution.
A resolve to live as we breathe
to feel the ground absorb the rain
that produced the tender plant
that heals from his wounded side.

Darkness overshadowing brightness
too occupied with death to accept immortality.
He scavenges through alleys for prey
to inhale the winds of life.
For this reason we keep the light on to frighten
away the apparition hiding underneath the bed.

The morning when the mirror is no longer
gentle enough to disguise time we begin repenting.
Lamenting for the evils performed by the hands whose
lines now tell their own tales and record indiscretions.
Chronicles in journals kept in the attic underneath the
preserved flower unearthed from the garden.

Shortened Days

lost as if unseen
the finger of God
will give immortality
but an empty abyss
can't hold the days
for a day is as a thousand
even a thousand as a day
but the unlost blood
stains the tree

The cold rain sounds warm. The outdoor's calling above the loud silence on the other side of the frosted window. Tonight when the eyes recess the mind will search for someone to listen to it's pleas.

She swung from his lines like tree vines in a jungle . Consumed in his literary world, anxiously anticipating where his words would take her next. Once she entered she knew that there would be no exodus and she didn't look for any. She wanted to be lost with him. Stranded in a place where the only meat necessary came from within, where the dampness of their language satisfied the thirst and their meaning draped her bareness.

A Funny Looking Moon

The silver moon was suspended

in the night sky and rested

so close to the earth that

it stood outside of my door

it's shine illuminating far

above man's duplication and

the glory of creation a wonder

but the cold December air tepid

because this moon stayed until morning

guarding my frost covered garden.