Bones

Out by the side of the road
Ribs gleaming in the whitened sun,
The dead dog of purpose won't
Give up its ghost.

It just lies there,
Waiting for a heavenly host
To come and carry it away
A white mile marker, propping

Up the day, a billboard hoax that
Gets in the way of the scenery,
Disturbing the greenery,
Promising travelers on.

Fortune, that invisible
Hand, strikes without warning,
Is impossible to decipher
With its siren blare, its

Big Six Wheel, its
Protocol of Random moments.
True culture is built
On reverence.

And Rumours Of Wars

As the black crow calls
And with such foreboding swoops
And lets fall its omen feather
At our feet, no sign from heaven
Could render as sweet this
Blackened quill which
Whittles defeat

For as the aim is followed through
It is the chance to defy the threat
Which summons the true
And truly I 've no oath for you
But this; when soft petal'd spring
Wilts from summer's kiss,
That our ancient pact remain
Under that scalding rain.

The test is certainty with
Conviction. To throw fully thwarted
Against hope into the stark naked sky
This our dream,
Carpe
Carpe Deum.

looking

the moon like an iris
coronas around in two tight circles
the air heavy and sweet
a moist breath.
inside, survivor.

i am on the inside, looking in.

i keep africa in a box in my
living room.

out of the corner of my eye,
a silverback
and his troop
move like streaks in the night.