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How long has it been
until a harvest beam?
spring turns summer hot
July corn leaves unfurl hope
...
You look unto stone
seeing striated furrows
once living bedrock
now a stooping figure
...
this next month you will be dead
again, one year so far, far away
though still within this sanguine heart
you stare your love as always
...
these winds have no chords tonight
drifting over a prairie of loneliness
knotting oozing thoughts of nostalgia
onto tumbleweeds of emptiness
...
Where footling trees do grow
nature, apologies need not know
vistas look back at you with eyes of snow
stones, high meadows, and silver timber knots
...
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Seattle, WA Goethe: 'In normal life we make language work in a provisional way, because we signify just superficial relations. As soon as we speak of deeper relationships, there comes up suddenly another language, that of the poetical.')
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Moon Full
How long has it been
until a harvest beam?
spring turns summer hot
July corn leaves unfurl hope
There green marble columns sway
minds, as ancient ritual days
mark another widening gyer
eyed by evening's face full centre
Guarding, anticipating anarchy
in turned fields of stalks
glorious renewal and ruin, strewn
a sun in eclipse by the moon
-cec
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12/8/2024 3:47:14 PM # 1.0.0
