Steven Silent Wolf

(East)
That Life conceived
In Darkness born
The Light that lights my eye is Wisdom's Child
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The brown strength of roots
and the decadence of ripeness
fall full against the golden arms
that strain to hold the southing sun
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This clod of earth that I call mine
is only dust and dirt,
Until your overflowing water
spills the green upon the brown.
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Yellow-eyed and awkward walking,
Head a-bob, the air shaped blackbird,
glossy in the morning glimmer,
timid, tastes the lake-shore rim.
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Like a door, I'm poor at metaphor, and very bad with simile.
I'm more than just a little off on my rhymability.

My mother, the existentialist, has never cared for meaning.
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Throw me into
h
e
f
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Human Wisdom,
freed from dinosauric strength
and lunic light,
has sprouted wings
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The spirit is breathing
eternal internal
until the Word eternal
external matters
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Have you seen the
Star of wonder
Star of grace
Star by which
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Breath of Air
Be born upon our lips
The blessing of the Word.
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Isn't it funny how
they always want money
the smell of wet wool
and cigarette butts
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Kissing that freckle,
I don't know how I missed it
After all these years.
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At time's cold river
I only appear to drink:
Thirst creates my life.
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Your words
a wind door
to where you are
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The summer sun has fled to warmer climes
before the dauntless lance of winter.

Warmth and Life have folded up their clothes
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I never write poetry.
But,
When driving an ugly truck
Down a busy road,
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