Infused rambling in dim-lit aisles, Strange vibrations heaping into piles, I float the river for miles. I say, “We need to float; float that boat, all the way to Belding.” This we did, and with the river, we sing. To an island, we came to be. “Let’s make some chili,” I say. Looking above in…
Category: Nature Poems
Winter Trail
I slide on those battered Columbia hikers leaning off the side of my hammock swinging trail side. The feel of warm wet socks from the day before slipping unwanted inside a frozen shoe. With the crunch of snow and clanging of spikes, like a herd of turtles we go stomping down that trail. To hell…
Where do the Beavers go?
Lying in a bed of grass, waiting on the unknowing slap of the river. Clouds roll like smoke, drawn to the ringed moon like flies on shit. “This is our river,” one shouts. “It’s not ours, nor the beavers, but we all shit where we sleep,” says the other. Trees sway in a whisper of…
Hello, Autumn
Hello, Autumn. Coming in on a wet breeze, Drenching your promise to the bones. Darkness now reigns in temporary glory, Waiting in dilapidated hovels for the horrors to unfold, a blanket of snow surpasses tortured souls in the algorithm. Life-suckers on the prowl with baited hooks lingering over weakened stock, the darkness has come. But,…
Moon
Mystic skys swirling overhead. Weaved with the strain of duty. She beckons with her head. I collapse to her raw beauty. She lifts me from the material dead. I awaken gradually. No longer bound to the dread. Fulfilled now with the desire for purity.
The Slug
I suckle on nylon tents, titanium pots, and mesh-covered shoes. Once in awhile I get licked by strange objects, this isn’t old news. I was used to being flicked away in revulsion and pesticidal turmoil, on my way to catching the noose. But, I remain the same when the moisture is right and darkness consumes….
Small Town Hoot-Hoot
I hear an owl hoot outside my ramshackle tin can, Frosty March air dulled the night melodies, Remembrances sway in the night breeze with the rhythm of the trees, Moments slip through the cracks, A monotonous clang of metal fills the silent woodland scene, I began to recoil in horrific convulsions, Transforming into a twisted…
Fluctuations
The cold went as quick as it came. The early bird becomes the worm, So they claim. Tonight I look at stars, Instead of fireballs of burning scars. Bitterness brutalized me, and I ate the forbidden fruit, And out came a toot, what a Hoot. Now I sway in Mother’s breath, Back down the road…
Cycles & Bowman Lake Trips
Squandered time has eclipsed wasted dreams floating in the motions, Days mix and mingle waiting for the subsequent streams lacking emotions, Fresh coffee every half hour steams in retreat from the commotions, Reality screams through the seams as I accept my demotion, But, as it would seem we still have Bowman.
Thinking of Spring
In the dead grass I sit, warm sun aloft in a clear blue sky, Fading are the days of cold dusty couches, waving farewell to winter’s relentless bite, Deep desires for fresh growth eclipse dull colorless backdrops, the wind gusts a warm vow of rejuvenation, Formulating a grand deception.
Slug Words 