Raven Breath

By moon light, were did raven weep, were did it’s blood stained feathers fall. trail to dark haven, were no man has time to smile. It will indeed take a while for any breath to not frost, for any heart to beat warmly. Slowly reality weaves, like spider’s dewy doilies that drift and flow with heavy night air. Kindled in low winter lighting, so that no color is seen, reaching long curling figures of dark watery faces that live through pale care of winds' whip...that brings drips of starry tears, and shad of doubt cultivates many spiraling threads of fears. Reaping what is sewn is unveiling of a deceiver’s chortled words and gnarled strands of figures that nudge like fat leaches on back side ones neck. Mirth is only last echo of choked call, if your hands are stained with raven’s dripping liquid of breath.

Ode to a thinker

Ode to a Thinker: * Thinker I’ve seen it before so don’t say I haven't...........I will not, I will not.....do you see, smell, hear, feel, and taste that Thinker?...I smell it, I hear it, I taste it, I feel it, but I do not see it.... Oh Thinker playfulness, smell, grass, running...... It plays in grass, it smells of grass, it feels like grass and I see it....... Thinker what do you see that I can not?........ two blue pools, a field of wheat, a brown egg, an autumn leaf, you see opposite... Tinker dose it fly when wings are off?...... it will move and it will eat and it will have no flight with out wings but it will find flight in sleep.......Thinker what are you thinking now.....My memory betrays me, and will betray you as well, our words spin round our life’s sine, around it hits same things again and again .........Thinker, I’ve seen it before so don’t say I haven’t.......I will not, I will not....... do you hold it with in you, do you hold it in your