Arriving at the homestead

 The three boys peered down from the hill
Below stood the house they were raised in
The candle light in the windows lit up the wheat field nearby
A tall figure stood before the thatch house as if casting a spell

The figure wore a human skull as a mask 
somehow had embedded goats horns into it
The wind blew slightly warm to the feel
The folding wheat sprigs exposed the figures gown

The children fixated on the figure
The oldest pointed out three other figures
partially absconded in the elms at the bottom of the hill
But moving around as if waiting for an invitation

The wind died down and a musket shot rung out
the children jumped in fright and ducked
As the blast echoed out across the landscape
The figure in the mask had disappeared

The three figures in the elms had vanished
A farmer appeared holding a musket and lamp
The children leapt up and ran toward him
"Father!"

Arrival before dawn

 The three childrens paddled their way through the dark
Approaching the yellow dim lit dock
Navigating through a narrow inlet 
A distant harbor bell rings

The dark water below surges
Shimmering with the dock lamplight
The older child paddles from the back
The youngest paddles from the middle

The middle child rows firmly fromt he front
The narrow boat approaches the deck
The oldest child grabs the upright
tying the knot on quickly as the boat jerks

He jumps onto the quay deck
The middle child lifts the younger up
The oldest helps him onto the wood
The middle child takes the older child's hand and swings up

  

Scorched from within

 They extend upward like towers
With flames curling off them
The world needs tenderness
The world begs to be pillaged

Where there are empty houses
kindling awaiting for the flame
The fixed ready to be broken
Opening to the blows and fire

Wanting the wood of it's structure
To feel the lick and then turn ember
giving it's surfaces to further the fire
Until it's raging torrents of heat eat

Chirp and spine

 The tree bark is covered in spines
It's all lit up by an aggressive sun
The forbidden illumination
Read through language of the sky

Tower coarse barren and slippery
The humid morning gives the thorns their silver
The treebark forms a steel dullness
The morning chirps with optimistic temperature

Hugging the spines of the tree
For beady eyes attached to focused hawks radiate
Yet they hesitate to risk their regal wings
For the promise of breakfast

wall climbing struggler

 The struggling lizard flicks up its tail
It stays high up behind it
it absorbs the rays of early afternoon
A drop of eater on the marble it sips

I will bring it back to life
It will raise it's head and pick out intruding insects
It will  feed itself and grow it will reproduce
It will become a hurricane

A wall climbing creature
seeking it's piece of the sun and survival
recovering to creep and crawl
And calm my anxieties

Drive beyond virtue

Shoulders weigh me down
legs attempt to amble forward
Move I say, Move right, move left leg
But they won't

Your life is not saved by confession
Honesty the way you curate it for ears
It does not liberate you
you but congratulate yourself

New attempts at rapport fall as awkward
tricky little sequences with half the affection
For it is not truths but what they point to
That drive people apart 

Life is not saved through virtue alone
There must be a drive to ignore the weight
To push legs forth and watch them obediently
And they will

Bloodshot sky

 Bloodshot sky comes in vision
Those red veins make roadways onto earth
Searching and seeking the mind
Laughter within the insistent crimson

The smile comes from behind the wall of ink cloud
The one that inevitably eats the moon
vultures invoke the feast
The nakedness of humanity

Bloodshot sky looks down
It echoes every tangles aspiration and fear
Throwing them down as heavy nets
Woven from the blood shot veins of sleepless eyes