Hallowed, Old Kinsman c. 1994
When twisted ivy climbs high around stone,
And begins to whither in the hands of the moon,
Time is riding on and things begin to change,
The Autumn sky shines indigo and falls in indigo rains.
These droplets run and drop down the hazy crimson leaves,
And fall onto the face of this mystic, haunting eve.
A cat, black as sack cloth, dances on a fence post,
While wolven howls echo in the hollowed-out coves.
The rain dances with swirling sand-dust gyres,
And black mountains glow bright with burning fires.
Night falls on the backs of the oaks,
And the pale-leafed trees are misted with smoke.
It is then that I call my hidden night children.
Out from the shreds of ivy still left,
From the fenceposts and black coves at rest,
Down from the pyres and the high burning mountains,
From the oaks that smoke and moon-paled rain fountains,
I call them to me, the hallowed, old kinsman.
Snowy rooftops glisten blue
The moon sings a winter song.
The night's matron glistens on the crystal lawn.
Though you can't stay too long
the tapster welcomes you.
Ramble in the mellow room and sing a tune.
Covered in snow
it melts by the fire
sip a tea cup
and I'll strum the lyre.
Many travelers come here
When the moon shines on rooftops.
When the snow is on the front step of the shop.
When the snow finally stops
You'll be on your way there
Where the moonlight glows on the snow in your hair.
Covered in fire's
light by the cold mug
Melted snow on the rug.
Lonely is the mellow room
The land is in the new spring
Intoxicated by the new moon, they sing.
A New song comes now to ring
In the ears of lonely fire's
And now there are no more songs for the wood lyre.
Covered in spring,
Sit in mellow rooms
Dream of winter
The absence of gloom.
Sun-God Children 1997
One morning I saw life.
The mountains were on fire.
The smoke from the dew
rose into the clouds.
Leaves danced like sun-god childen,
running across the field
in scores, towards me.
Their mother, the wind
showered me with spores
and dandelion glances.
I sat in a golden clearing,
carpeted with yellow leaves in the sun,
watching the blue sky sparkle
with the glistening
Brevard College Literature Contest
Selbstbild (Self Portrait) 1999
Silken twists of pallid light
reach through the curtains
and held his face
until his eyes flashed awareness.
The wayside yielded to the hues of spring.
His eyes drawing close
to those ultraviolet blooms.
He drank in the transient oak.
Leaning and bent,
under its burdensome age.
Before him manifests the spirit
of a wild horse.
Its silver waters move the earth.
Its mane sparkling with micah flakes.
The sunlight held him
and filled his soul.
So many things to feel.
casts its gaze upon him.