Dig a hole;
raven beak,
feathers and all,
the dark tide
billowing in under
purple eyed wide
through leaves
of fertile sleep, the
incandescent swarm
of light and keep. And
by agony of defeat, the red hand
swept by the cheek; behind the ear
where willows seek refuge from night's
gathered reap.
Dig a hole, for broken rhino horn,
for mercy's advice dropped and
scorned, from lily lips adorned,
for her pale wooden hands
glorified and sworn.

above the slow swell of summer inferno,
the arizona sunset glowing
an encapsulated ember portrait
of my two halves smiling. One with long hair
recognizing the cicadas ancestral arrival,
the other in her pulled aluminum lung,
screaming a winter's chill. Out in the quail's
rendevous, along paths of rubber streams we
broke from exaustion and into play's delight.
Under the dying sun, admired in it's glorious
surrender; late day's syncope, the jackrabbit's wide
turn. Rolling back with a film of ectoplasmic sorrow
from a flash of that fleeting moment.