Wednesday, January 22, 2020

February

For a second
you forget
it’s the dead
leaves
rustling
overhead.


-Randi Ward

Albino

In your eyes
I can see
you don’t
expect me
to survive
in the wild.


-Randi Ward

Infusion

A day of paper
gowns and needles
singing doom
into the tender
masses.

-Randi Ward

Kite

I wish
it were
only
a question
of
getting
off
the ground.

-Randi Ward

Log

Isn’t it
strange
how 
a dusting
of snow
will
make you
your own
shadow?

-Randi Ward

That Nature

Something or someone has awakened me
from my bear sleep and bear dream
of naked women in the aisles
of the tabernacle singing the blues.
Restlessly I am walking
through the rooms of my house
looking for the culprit
but only see myself reflected
in the windows, mirrors
                                    and I have
to surmise I am the one
who has broken into sleep and dream
somehow disturbed by that lumbering
gait, those rolled shoulders,
the face and body changing easily
between the bear and me.
There are gifts we can and cannot
show and it's confusing how 
two creatures can be in one body,
one heart, one soul
                               as if some complimentary
reality has fitted us together
making the whole greater than the parts.
So I make my coffee,
look at my hands,
sniff the air and sigh
letting that bear dream go
into the morning light,
growl to greet the day.

-Byron Hoot

Sunday, January 19, 2020

Piles of the Morning

Origins of faint sore dust looms in drinking waste 
Pockets pretending under soft vigils 
Gifts of seeking tundras 
Miles of ready tides 
Rusty leaves and tired mansions of truth wander into herds left blind Auroras deny bottled meaning 
Tired of want Ready for rest 
Eastern doors making dancing dens 
Proper spaces where open coins fall into trance and milk 
Piles of the morning

-Cory Tambourine

February

For a second you forget it’s the dead leaves rustling overhead. -Randi Ward