Path through the moonlit forest.

Shadows follow like thoughts.

Trees fold in half after I pass

and where I came from disappears.

The way forward continues

as the moon is consumed by dewdrops

clinging to each fern

and ends in the lantern lit field.

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From the collection “Beyond the Border Kingdom“.

(1)

In dreams
the white wolf
stands beside
the black wolf

Emerging from
unnamed star fields
walking across
a bridge of light
against gravity
against laws of physics.

I felt no fear.
I felt no fear.

Distant galaxies
produce and consume
light.

Skewed and shifted
before arriving here
and matter we cannot see
fills the space.

This universe
spirals further
from the beginning
stretching into
unknown space
at speeds we
cannot fathom
beyond the traditional
rules we theorized
from the variables
we created.

The universe spirals further
from the beginning
around a black hole –

gathering light
gathering matter.

At the event horizon
pink cubes gather strength.

Continue reading

Leaving behind the city
we pass the line separating
concrete and dirt path.

Recent snow has hardened and crunches
with each step.

I pause and silence myself
and hear ravens nearby.

I pause and hold my breath
and imagine what secrets are beneath the empty field.

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I lost my breath in the empty field.

Lost in the blinding snow.

Thrown over the mountain tops.

In the silence I heard winter’s song.

I ran across the iced field in near darkness

my bare feet light and swift as I cast

no shadow and left no trace.

I ran across the iced field until it gave way

to the infinite valley filled with the missing sun

and I fell slowly and forever into the

sun as my body and mind separated.

From across time I sang winter’s song

at every breath.

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I walk the worn dirt path
circling the overgrown fields
where the winds have abated
and the grass, flowers, and
trees have grown deep
roots while the land has
gone back in time before
the cities of industry.

I fear not the process, the natural end of this time
here as I prepare for the next. I only fear the method
and I vow to meet it’s messenger on my
field with sword in hand beneath the white petals.

White snow absent of
mind dusts,

absent of tree shadows
and raven wings.

White snow becomes the
moon filled river.

White snow becomes
the expanding horizon.

White snow becomes
what we bring, what we perceive.

An empty canvas, the empty field
becomes a blank page and the contents

of our full minds, the charged emotions
we carry become the objects strewn across the field.

The white snow is deceptive
and in the beauty we can become

distracted and lose sight
of our being our place in everything.

Like mind dusts they accumulate if
not cultivated and swept away.

Our being, our body, our minds
require maintenance and care.