Mute of color and colloquialisms,
all reflective properties silenced.
Mystery and wonder, swallowed.
Edges become less, more
markers than precipices, holding only
the shape and hollow mundanity
of a gapeless hole.
Blue Skies & Black Asphalt
Rain rages, sideways against frosted windows,
does not do a thing to ease the arid heat.
Steam is rising from the slick
highway and I am a human
mantra of focus. Heavy gray
clouds are sweeping down on both sides,
but I ignore their menace. My eyes
can see only the cerulean promise, opening
ahead of me, a clear pathway,
reminding me I am
Seven guards, camouflaged
to fight expanse of living
and charming, they spread
their limbs, stretching
to shed their seeds.