the cataclysmic sky
free fall and fly
down the parallel that
wipes the dreary eye;

grass roots head north
where the southern sun rose
above needles on the ground,
and the tumble tree fell forth;

too dry on summer day
with no shield from the rain,
those broken beads of water
soiled - even before the fray;

hear the western wind
that feeds the branched inferno,
prick the curved sides deep
into the hearts who’ve sinned;

beyond six feet underground
wide open with a gnash
the clouds are choke-filled with
a knotted string of voices abound.


we live and we die;
where shooting stars a-lie
felled down to the core
- don’t forget to cry.

Labels: Compositions, Ramblings