Silver Strand

March 30, 2017

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Set out on the strand
the silver ribbon
at the end of the land
a finger dipped
into the sea
it had called to me

That sand
kissed by the water
burned my feet
blinded my eyes
and the tide
whispered shush to me

On the low, dry crests
in the long grass
and the scree
the wind swirled sand
and feathers
and chills all round me

This place is not
what I paint here
it is roads and men
and beds and board
busy and bright
and spins all about me

But with my eyes closed
I can see it better
lonely and left
singing softly
to the distance
with an audience of me

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Forgetting How To See

March 29, 2017

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In the dimming light
I stumbled more than once
it was like forgetting
how to see
there in the deep oaks

But the scent
of my wandering
was overwhelmed
as I slowly went blind
I touched the twilight

The loam and leaves
they spiraled around me
in a mist of fragrance
and I was led further
into the deep oaks

They brought the fresh tang
of water and stone
of mushrooms and
perhaps faeries
or something alive

That thinks and breathes
I felt it pass me by
more than once
a fleeting flicker
of roses or moss

It tasted, almost
like enchantment and bones
of something older than old
and as the moon rose
and all turned to silver

I stumbled again
lost in that hall
of secrets and incense
a silent passage
into dreaming

But I was awake.

Lost In Gila Bend

March 12, 2017

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The tiny desert town
sprawled in the thorns
sand silently crept
inside

Gila Bend
held me over an open flame
at just past noon
for a tank of gas
and a cool spot
before I turned back to the road

what do they do
in the middle of nothing
here in nowhere?

I looked round
but couldn’t see a thing
but shimmer-haze
and a dust-devil

The cool spot
had just two beers
and the floor was sticky
with both

It was hard to choose
Corona or the house brew
should’ve had the first
the other was the same stuff
just two weeks stale
maybe left over from the last keg

but I figure
that was all part
of the ambiance

in a world where one bar
is good if it has two beers
and there’s nothing else
but a tank of gas
dust-devils
and the road.