Grief

Waves of grief

Crash over the rocks

Until the cold sea

Pulls them back

Then sends them in again

Oh Dying Tree

 It's never too early in Amerika.

 

Oh dying tree, oh dying tree,

They've  stripped away your branches

Oh dying tree, oh dying tree,

They've stripped away your branches

Your boughs are bare in wintertime

And now they're bare in summertime

Oh dying tree, oh dying tree,

Such a shame about your branches

Oh dying tree, oh dying tree,

They've  ripped away your branches

So much sadness do you bring

I can feel grief's awful sting

Oh dying tree, oh dying tree,

They've  ripped away your branches

Oh dying tree, oh dying tree,

They've  clipped away your branches

Your trunk is just a stick to hew

The chainsaw cuts through and through

Oh dying tree, oh dying tree,

Your dripping sap, it makes me blanch

Oh murdered tree, oh murdered tree,

Now you're firewood at the ranch.

.

Short Poem

In the cold heart of space

I sit watching

Alone

the swimmer

the swimmer

trained in the ways of water

the swimmer ignores land

it’s much hotter there

and one takes each moment

step by step

the swimmer knows 

dreams are liquid

in the heat of day

they turn to dust

but under all lies earth

ocean and lake

are cupped in mother’s hands

and the sweat of her labor

runs in rivers

at some moment

the swimmer loses concentration

gravity breaks apart the image

and the swimmer lies again in mother’s arms

at one certain moment

the illusion dies

WE

 

How to Make a Doorstop

 

480 Days

 Only 480 days since my last post here.

Florence is soon to be a memory, as we escape to a more promising future, away from the foul miasmas that invade our space and nip away at our health like human piranha, leaving us stripped almost to the bone.