A Crucifixion of Trees - just in time for the Christmas Tree lumber aftermath :)

Telephone poles
died for our sins
in a crucifixion of trees,
chiseled from the limbs
of living bodies

laid to rest over moats
stacked in piles for self-defenses
made to suffer each floating boat
hanging corpses to build our fences

Evolving David

Shore describing the landscape of wave,
Sea sculpting the border shore,
Evolving a David disguised in the rock
Tossing spray from naked shoulders-

The sea's an unsatisfied artist
Always seeking to perfect
The statuary of mountains
In surges, bursts of tools working
The surgery of cliff faces, dancers
Carved from the onward dance, chisels
Torn from each emerging body, Motions
Made of the passing hand,
An impression of ocean
Thumbed in sand-

Nights Like This

On nights like this
My love has all the solidity
Of a wound.

Stars scrape against that place
Where my heart turns
The dark world
With its lava.

It is wind and not air
Entering me, fire
Not just heat
Igniting my internal star-

Nights with the passion
Of nature for ideas,
Poetry for thoughts
And all of humanity
For tenderness.

A love of so much strength
It throbs like a sun
Around the flower in its hand.

But does not squeeze.

The Wounded Horse

You are a wounded horse
On the edge of abyss.
The tracks your thoughts make
Are so vastly intangible
There’s not much
Of you left.

I pray for you
Though I have no religion
And hope for you
Though I possess no decision.

Your choices of smoke
Are quickly becoming
An icicle cloak
Behind which freezes
The blood
Once running.

I pray for you
Though I have no reason
But that something
Has brought us together
For a season.

And somehow the waves
You make as you move
Create in my spirit
A permanent groove.

We are both in danger.