nature

Cliffs

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Windswept, chiseled over millennia –

monolith, monument to forces far beyond

our domain.

Lonesome giant,

against the cavernous sky.

Outcropping to outcropping,

alongside trees gnarled in crevices,

I scale the sun-bleached walls.

The wind is at my back,

falling rubble

meets a fate only it can withstand

tumbling from near-heaven, careening against

the side of the cliffs.

Little stands between death and I,

turning back, is no longer an option.

Surefooted,

may my hands guide the way,

the sun beats down on my face.

To the sky I announce,

“I will meet you in the middle.”

The summit seemed impossible

until it was in my grasp.

Now, how to get

back down?

Soft-shell

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I can’t take it anymore.

Sorry I just —

I need to move along now,

grown used to my surroundings

weary of my limitations.

I hold myself back more than I am comfortable admitting,

unfortunately,

this is self-evident.

I wish I had the luxury

of keeping my armor on,

alas, I must slip into something

more suitable.

Crack me open,

any other time that would prove fatal

but I am in transition.

Out with the old, in with the new.

Weakness is now my strength,

I flow as the currents do.

If you’re too comfortable in your own skin,

it becomes your coffin,

I must cast it aside.

I can’t take it anymore,

maybe the growing pains

are worth the suffering.

I Heard Cardinals

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How is it possible?

Echoes in the void

left by silent winter.

The ebb and flow

of time

Green language returns.

Take it as a sign

that the same old song

continues.

How is it possible?

Scarlet in the canopies,

soliloquy.

This duet,

you and I,

must go on.

Not without you,

but dancing to your tune,

wherever it’s heard.

Call met by response,

speak,

and I’ll hang on each

and every

word.

I will return,

I will return.

How is it possible?

Listen,

and you will find

the answers you seek.

Bioluminescence

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Signs of life

glint in the corners of

my eyes.

Only giants sleep at ease

in the inky depths,

but there’s always something bigger,

hungrier

on the lookout.

I stare into the abyss,

and realize,

I’m falling right into it’s

dilated pupil.

Hold your breath,

and try to withstand

the pressure.

Packs of spineless marauders

jet through the void

with prying eyes and dazzling light.

They’re gone in a flash,

and if you’re unlucky,

so are you.

Specters wait patiently,

their torch held

right above a mouthful

of crossed rapiers.

Some take a different approach,

gliding through pitch black,

cancelling out their shadows,

sniffing out anyone else

trying to be inconspicuous.

Beware of bright beacons

there isn’t always

someone you’d like to meet

on the other side.

Event Horizon

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I feel it,

I feel it

as I play this game of chicken

inching up

to the point of no return.

I’m pulled closer and closer

yet the gravity of the situation

never quite dawns on me.

My vertebrae, adaptable and flexible

to a point,

find rest

tracing the shape of the pilot’s seat.

I’ve sat for too long,

and need to stretch my legs.

I’ve come all this way,

and, out of nowhere

I’ve crossed the threshold and

I’m in too deep.

Before anyone I’d ever heard of

was born,

a far-off star collapsed dead

and left a void of

crushing fury,

the wrath of a blind idiot God.

For the crime of intrusion

on His private domain,

I will be welcomed in

for eternity.

And I will be pulled even further

beyond my limits.

I’m just a wayward thread

yanked from its seam,

falling into

the great abyss

I feel it,

I feel it.

Living Fossils

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I am the way

God made me,

nothing more

and nothing less.

We all have our cracks,

yet I am not broken enough

to fix.

I may be stuck in my ways,

only because I know

they work well.

I’m not looking

to be understood.

Things have changed,

new ages

came and went,

but I’m still here,

rock-solid.

Time has told me

only one thing,

that I am well-designed.

To endure

means a lot more

in the long run

than to conquer.

Rarely do I reflect

on what has brought me here,

I know only

how to survive.

“The fish is that last to know

it lives in water.”

In the Flesh

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I wish the fire

in the pit of my stomach

would warm my heart

during cold nights,

but the heat

doesn’t quite

travel that far.

I belch up smoke,

because I am only skin and bones.

My Achilles’ tendon,

sore and raw

from javelin wounds

that won’t heal,

because I can’t stop

picking at the scabs.

I am only human.

If only I could

power wash

the spaces

between the folds in my brain.

Unravel it, rinse it off

and wring it out —

but it has to stay

in the case

because it doesn’t travel well.

I am the sum

of all my defective parts,

inextricably stitched together

with connective tissue,

take me or leave me.

Mantis

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Candy-striped prowler

among the tiger lilies —

waiting for the next insect

and unshakable idealist

who doesn’t understand

when something is too good

to be true.

When you only have swords,

everything looks like

it could use a little

off the top.

It appears you’ve been caught,

trespassing on my petals

and I’m very sorry for

the inconvenience,

but I’ll have to

cut you down.

There’s no hostility,

I’m just doing what

comes naturally.

My own, not quite accurate,

reenactment

of Judith Beheading

Holofernes.

Heaven is Under Our Feet

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You may never

step in the same river twice,

but it feels

all too familiar

to tread water.

We’re up to our knees

and it seems

we’ll be bogged-down

for a while.

You must accept

that if you get down and dirty,

you’re bound to leave

some footprints.

Press on, press on —

the adventure doesn’t end

because our shoes are scuffed,

our pants

caked with dirtclods,

our hair more mussed

than when we just woke up.

The world is your canvas,

and you are equal parts

artist and explorer-

this morning is a once-in-a-lifetime

opportunity

to simply live.

Just make sure,

upon your return,

that you don’t track any mud

on your clean carpets.

There’s a time and a place

for that.

Echolocation

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Soaring on

streams of consciousness.

I’m speaking up

speaking up —

even if you’re not tuned-in.

Haven’t you heard?

I’m broadcasting

so that one way

or another

we’ll find each other.

I’ll spread the word.

Come dusk

we’ll find a spot

with great acoustics,

and sing our hearts out.

I’m speaking up,

speaking up,

because I have a voice.

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