The Close Poems - a Trilogy

Broken



In the flint of things,

Between knife and rock,

A spark kindles,

Ignites to a wildfire

In the close space,

Air asphyxiated,

No room to breathe,

The center of double-cross,

I fight to fly free,

Boredom punctuated

With nervousness,

I cannot imagine


My way out…




Struck



I’m a vein of gold,

Out west buried deep

In the subterranean current

Coals turning to diamonds

Float my hidden streams,

Natives pound hooves

Into the dirt,

Grounding my deeps

So that my riches multiply,

Beneath the ghost town

I gleam, in darkness,

I thrive….







Open



On lofty airs,

Feather floating

From the brim of the hat,

Gravity in reverse,

The apple leaving

The ground to rest

On the twig,

Above the horizon,

Melting into

The receding terminus,

The bow of the ship,

Bobbing the swallowing wave,

The surreal is still natural,

In that what it is beheld with

Beholds the tree and the star….