People
surround
but I’m always
alone
In naked
seclusion
fleeing
the throne
Caught in
the snarl
of their
consonant rhyme
Shunning
all
overtures
— fields still unlined
(Gardiner Montana: August, 2025)
People
surround
but I’m always
alone
In naked
seclusion
fleeing
the throne
Caught in
the snarl
of their
consonant rhyme
Shunning
all
overtures
— fields still unlined
(Gardiner Montana: August, 2025)
Three more hours
to sleep
unopposed
Three more hours
from verses
supposed
Three more hours
of quiet
and peace
Three more hours
my dreams
to appease
Three more hours
where time
has been screened
Three more hours
to live
in between
Three more hours
not hither
or yon
Three more hours
a reckoning
— dawn
(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)
To catch a wolf
become the wolf
where tracks lead distant
to trails beyond
His nose on fire
and fangs bare fronted
to follow closely
all fear withdrawn
He marks each turning
with blood ill letted
to lure the hunter
on death’s foray
This sojourn ends
in wooded darkness
to enter once
— your fate to prey
(Beartooth Mountain: August, 2025)
Rising
by sin
falling
by virtue
Caught in the
blind spot
of destiny’s
rhyme
Words
overweight
in consonant
sorrow
Vowels
deftly stolen
inverting
— the time
(Cooke City Montana: August, 2025)
Killing
time
without
wounding
eternity
Life
in the
balance
life
— on the edge
(Red Lodge Montana: August, 2025)
Loving
the solitude
Loving
the silence
Hating
consensus
Hating
refrain
Loving
the magic
Loving
the present
Hating
the reference
Hating
— proclaims
(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)
To carry life’s
complex messages
The structure
must be simple
Like angle iron
at ninety degrees
the weight to never
buckle
A thrusted spear
a hammer punch
direction
short and measured
Effects most dire
with arrows fired
from bows
— most straight delivered
(Chief Joseph Highway: August, 2025)
The Mountain
looms
and calls your name
To glory
or
perdition
Its summit
has a thousand
fathers
Whose abyss
awaits
— the orphan
(Beartooth Pass: August, 2025)
I can’t build
the bridge
But I can cross it
when asked
I can’t mark
the trail
But I can follow
when tasked
I can’t light
the fire
But I can warm
in its glow
I can’t walk
on water
But I can bathe
in its flow
I can’t play
the harp
But know an Angel
with hands
I can’t save
the masses
But love a Savior
— who can
(The First Book Of Prayers: August, 2025)
Common Sense
uncommon
Wisdom
in the queue
Figures lie
as liar’s figure
Judgment
— left askew
(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)