Internal lightning strike

Internal lightning strike

Knowing the mark was made

Clouds cannot make hard turns

The sky cannot cast shade

But my body thunders

Rain pouring through my veins

Followed by a cold front

And change in weathervanes

Not a mountain or slope

Not a mountain or slope

Touches of forest stretch

A plateau promising

Yawns of a pencil sketch

Sleeping simplicity 

Our self-conscious breathing

Swallows are sweeping both

Our abandoned sheathing 

Twenty-three years ago

Twenty-three years ago

On a Tuesday evening

Meeting with Ray Justice

Just before your leaving

Close to eight o’clock and

Yellowwood tree flowers

Hung like bright chandeliers 

To light the darkest hours

Emptying my pockets

Emptying my pockets

Dreams became souvenirs 

Currency not spent might

As well be boutonnières

Tightening of the belt

And the shoelaces tied

Prepared for day to day

But not should have or I’d 

A before before me

A before before me

Green as the start of Spring

Hopeful as a robin

Or a migrating wing

The wiser eye still sealed

The heart not as refined

Changing and grappling to

Widen the open mind

The contents of the World

The contents of the World

Tsunami in the heart

The calmness of Brahms breath

Turns to Rite of Spring start

Puncturing peace with push

That will not stop until

I find my sense of self

Amongst the overfill 

Enthusiasm’s rope

Enthusiasm’s rope

My old hands are sweating 

Stalling in the climb I’m 

Assessing my fretting 

Adrenaline shedding

Purpose into question

Must chinny up inches

Satisfy ascension