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
albaniacalling 