An Alpine Air

An alpine air

Five-thirty-five
Feet from here

North hill across
The way we can see

Particles clear
They’re spectacles

Below on the map
Looking across

This cloudless canyon
Full of footsteps

Stepped past
The last five years

An alpine air
In a clear sky

Breaths visible
Life vaporizing

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Wandering In Seattle

Skyscraper lights
Bleed up
From the buildings

Flares of office lamps
Bounce off of copy sheets
Reflections snowblinding
Those on below streets

Dripping photon waves
Like buckets of water
Are
Splashed all over
The place

Vagabondage

Give me a shemagh
And a
Jacket for the rain

Let me hide
From the breeze

A pair of leggings
And (a)
Two platform shoes

So I can walk
Through puddles and streets

Red and blue
Bruisy hues
Green and grey
Colors of cuts, too

Salted wounds
Scars from
Vagabondage

Black wrapped clothing
Bandaging
City nights like
Those by Van Gogh

I feel so royal
Colored
Drab and indigo

Give me a shemagh
And a
Jacket for the rain

Let me walk
And deeply breathe

Every microgram
Of dye
Drops stain my body

My wrapping wicks
The wounds away

Give me a shemagh
And a
Jacket for the rain

I’m on the run
A vagabond

I feel so royal
Colored
Drab and indigo

These starry nights
Are ones I know

Dressed in indigo
And drab I’ll go

Poikillmethermal

White walking down
The slate mountain

Snowing
Icicles

All the hallmarks
Of a sun-drenched
Alpine cascade
Of snow meadows
And blue trees

Every leaf a message
Every snowflake a
Way to think about
How to stay

At the peak

For weeks and freeze
With the solemn
Stoic gaze of the
Gorgon mountain

Waiting for when
Lightning strikes

And suddenly the
Place is shocked

Paralyzed

Time and place
Stopped and captured

With ice crystals
The stone
Refracting the light
Into fractals of
Beauteous designs

Shining through
With all the colors
Of every spectrum
Is the sun

Glowing mightily over
A new statue
On the slate peaks

Of a grey chain
Of intrinsic
Instincts

Willing to freeze
Wanting to stay

And see all the places

Kjempen

Kjempen

Sound is rising slowly
Like the foot
Of a wayward giant
Slowly lumbering
Through the pass

From the freeway
Bull beasts on wheels
Roll with the fall
Down the hill
To come back up again

Sounding like warped
Helicopter blades
Distorted in wind
Flying far overhead
A jaw-wired hiss

Into the return
Of curve
Of a wide winding road
With drivers struggling
To stay awake at night

Fistortion of hands
Meatily feeling their
Way while the giant
Groans and breathes
A song of pavement

Smooth
As if on wheels
A calm grinding noise
Of travel
Off in the distance

Echoing off
The valley walls
And reverberating
Down its hallway
Like a brook

Heavy footsteps
Falling
Of a giant
Walking
A towering form
Breathing
In the skeptic-laced skies
Glowing

Quietly

Quietly

Pass by in a haze
The reins
And sunsetting rails
While trainyards coast
With their cargo
Into a million engulfed
Lines of oil.

The third rail
Is aflame.

In wide
Tunnels
Beneath
Hot snow
And tufts
Of warm,
Cottony soil.

Transformation
Is not revelation.

Harvestman’s
Oil suspended
In lanterns
On shepherds’
Hooks in the hollow
Below the trail
Light the way.

Glowing gravel
Paves a narrow
Road above
Passageways
And below a
Sonorous scape
Of saturnine dusk.

The wicks will
Not burn quietly.

Torch Glow

Torch Glow

Twilight pulse echoes
Across empty meadows
And camps beneath weeping willows.

While far away, a man with a bow
Can’t silence his torch’s glow
Under an ancient moon’s woe.

It was replaced with pale shown
Through a slender thicket floe,
From his out of body into the know.

In Woods

In Woods

On a well-beaten
Yet abandoned trail
Grow ferns and flowers
Underneath fallen branches

A sloped copse
Uniformly forsaken
By the trees that have fallen
Across its ancient dirt path

Over a waterfall
On a steep slope
Feet getting wet
In the angled creek bed

Shivering in the shade
Legs shaking
In the alpine
Almost can’t find

Sloped degrees
Sitting by
Waterfall spray
So freezing

Virgo Olympus

Virgo Olympus

When a long time becomes a year
When it used to mean a week
Tides transitioning, ever bending
Towards an old wooden moon

Apothic red wine and dark coffee
A crazy man and a sensible one
A tuxedo clad man with no shoes
A music box with no value

Stale smoke and bad salvia
The streets are alive and inhaling
This bed is warm and intimate
Out there is brisk yet tolerant

No breeze, no rain, just people
A lack of, and an abundance
All types, all walks of life
Vagrants walk with barons here

Enforcers are feared, not respected
Men are pigs, chasing slop
Misplaced compliments
Unintended consequences

Hole in the wall food
The best in downtown
A place no one knew of
A place to be alone

Long walks throughout the city
Comedy entertainment and music
Lips that taste bitter with the red
Own breaths forced and ecstatic

Pilgrimage to the capitol
Statues watching over all
Halls of justice standing tall
In the shadow of unvalued reality

Holes in the bottom of her shoes
What love is held here
What inherent value in the sights
The sounds. To each their own

Hair tangling in each embrace
Sticking to those ruby-stained lips
Virgo and sagittarius in the city skies
Disappeared once inside

Smoke clouding the crowds
Sweet and sticking to the skin
Singing to the sky
Scorching lungs and singeing wind

Red wine on people’s breath
Stumbling down the streets undeath
Live and breathe the concrete does
Catching those in respective stupors

Abstract art with abstract thoughts
No regrets with the monochrome
No shame in your evil ways
In this city, all are synthetic androids

Constellations blink over water
Lights reflect off of storefronts
Hands are held for comfort
Shoulders leaned on for support

Smoke swirls out of open doors
Organic switchboards shut down
Skin touches skin
Ashes drank from small shoes

Dollars at the music box unvalued
Burning would serve to reverse it
Less repetition and no replication
Would serve only to make its worth

Reality on a strip of paper
Cradled in hand on the long walk
A favorite word in archietecture
Sanity being no one’s

A jacket borrowed and torn
Suffered through so much
Shootings threats and stabbings
Not on these sidewalks

Hands in hands
Clothes on the floor
Red wine glass half empty
Skin touching skin

Wine mingles with coffee
Smoke with the city
Lights with the water
And ashes with ashes

The city breathed its last of the night
Midnight gives way to tomorrow
Into tomorrow, we’ll be revived
The city will breathe, so will we