Journal Entry (fragment)

It was one of those first, late summer mornings where the wind blew a little stronger, a little colder. It sounded like a snake coming through the grass and brought with it that biting melancholy of past life. And I thought of the rose mallows withering and being reborn in the marsh down the road. And I thought of you. Withering and being reborn in my mind.

Onward (fragment)

And so we walk

onward, 

to those untrodden valleys.

Where youth’s fountain

flows 

in puddles of sky

in the symphonies of summer

cicadas

in the whirling dreams

of starlings.

Onward, 

to the horizon.

Where every dawn

holds the promise

of inevitable night.

And light

will only find

our eyes

should they be

open

to grasp

the outstretched hand

of the rising sun.

The Great Burn

I saw lightning in the earth.

It was my skin.

The heat fell away 

as the sun

retreated

into the hills

and left behind

my dried out hide.

One rise, one fall.

A whispered rumble,

the last remnant

of a great burn.