Monthly Archives: February 2014

When morning’s murk remains for far too long,

the sun becomes a lighter shade of gloam;

When earth can’t hear the moonlight’s languid song

through static plumes of dampening misty foam;

When sleepy, fog-draped hills begin to blur

their edges in amorphous mounds of grey,

then like, when without glass, your eyes obscure

each color, shape, and life within the day.


A body cannot wake, nor truly rest

if all the daylight hours are but a shift

in some unending grey-scale twilight jest,

which dulls all borders, floats your world adrift.

So catch your cast-off timber into flame

or risk each hour’s obliterating same.


Drifts down from the sky,
Blanketing our homes and roads,
Now we cannot drive

it takes more than a day
to recover from watching
some strange group of burly men,
far beyond the prowess you thought possible,
who have
returned to the city of your birth
with a trophy
none of these flannel-wearing loggers
ever thought
would rest for even a moment
in the slippery skid-row remnants
of this muddy backwater town.