Specks of dust
Intertwined,
Push the pen and muse the cosmos.

Whenst among the dirt
Does spring free will,
Yet fade to earth again.

Thoughts, hopes, dreams
Nourish the secular world,
And whispers feed the spring.

Curiousity vs. Psychosis

Run, River, Run
Stir the silt,
Abscond the detritus of the day.

Tumble and whirl,
O'er unsettled banks
Plunge ere to the sea.

Carve canyon and bowl
Grey slate's the canvas,
Mud and sand, timeless chisels.

Now rage, river rage
Spill your shackled edges
Slay the hapless lowlander.

Wither We All

The aphids die and roses wither,
I've seen it every season.
Seems a just and lasting law,
And I'm not fit for treason.

The clock's spring's made, and wound just so,
The Fates, their selfless toil-
No lever made by earthly hands
Restores this metal's coil.

So I'll not moan nor gnash the teeth
When my summons comes to call.
Go with grace and dignity
As summer blends to fall.

So lay my body in the ground,
Pile round the moist, good dirt
And save the pine for living ends,
I'd like to feed the earth.

Poetry Magazine