Clumps of Grass

Such ruth and tears; and we toil life, afraid to fly; and we wire

Love, afraid to breathe; and the “vale of tears”—a mirror

Haunt; and clumps of grass speak a myth. Such grace and

Poise, a whistle cry; and lissome hands, a tear caressed; and

Often love, I ponder blue: the rill of pain: a sorrow true; and

Sorely worn, the pegs of love: a shadow red: the rites of blood;

And shattered wind, afflicts the soul: the seat of light: a

Summer cold. Such grit and flame, a creek of coals; and snare

To heart, a deadly rose; for magic fades, the shades of grief;

And deep the mind—to harvest peace; and sky to breath, the

Wheel of sight: a forest dark: a falcon flight. Such root and

Pain, a filter wise: an ether drop: an ocean cry; and veil the

Light, the darkest grey; and soothe the soul, a cryptic ray; and

Barrels leak, a wisdom tear: a unit vague: a startled deer. 

Kiss of Clay

Grace is to love you; and whisper my heart; and such music:

Fire beneath the bone; and I ponder mystic eyes, aloof to

Commonsense; and speak so gentle: her ways and wiles; and

Pecan oils, float the wind; and ocean prayers, float the sea;

And stand this pain: a thousand tears; and what of love: to

Offer love; and what of grace: to perish love; and needle my

Flesh: indelible ink: it’s your name, love. So much the sand:

Neck deep; and bury heart: a fathom sewn; and polished

Nails—adorn beauty; and turquoise diamonds—speak the

Soul; and search the mail, my love; and walk the rain, my

Love; for passion burns; and ink wails; and magic words, fall

The curb: a moment torn: a nightingale; and ladybugs: the

Grandest wish; and butterflies: a partial smile; and fuse the

Lamp: my mystic eyes; and cut the kite: my kiss of clay.