My world is a loud lushness of fields and farms littered 

Sunrises cutting cold air into patterns more and less bright

Illumination easing into, over, and behind short grasses

Thick-trunked olive trees 

Vertical vine coral twisting in and out of view, in and out of reach

Meter wide concrete rafts made high and low at the corners

                Save shoes the slick treading rich earth

Planted saplings, rooted, snapped mid span by winds or speeding cars

Cold enough where the road bowls to frost breath

Sun’s eye bringing a quick sweat

Reverence both what can not and changes not ours the creature to make


Two fleeting days


My world is quiet, sterile laminate wrapped in a slow-blown, endless cloud

Brighter as the clock grows the morning late

The light a universal lifeless

Trees a universal lifeless

Rigid, tall, vertical as raging flame

Slicked mustard spores speckling the thin sheath delicate black

Clean are the gutters in the road, the road, the walks, grates, and walks

The walks so removed an idea of garden, of earth, of soil or rich or food

Of glory no sign, industry and all I can do making gray the earth as

                Sky above yet patterns come and swiftly God rebels rolling

Marble over marble high