Mountaintops

Rocks all breaking metered sky,
cold and strong and still.
Stories told of quest and love,
thirst and pain and will.

Blundering and bruised and tired,
the leaders of the flock.
Suffer, suffer, laws be given
when suffering will talk.

Clouds and storms and lonely men.
Climbing in the dark.
Laws be given by bloody hands.
Moses, then the cross.

Black Swans

Empty hearts which lust for love
Silly things like misplaced doves.

These unfold in light and warmth,
falling, husks of far-gone pain,
calluses which melt in rain,
The sun now follows as I run north.

Sins and sorrows bent on pleasure,
on fullness grasped and grace by measure,
oh, frantic glances, peace desired.

Self-Help

Uncured tobacco, steaming in homes,

Little girls, children, beaten by bones.

Tears cannot make a breath draw smooth.

Tears can still bring something new.

An empty cry, a bitter slap.

Bloody water drips on the well-used map,

running from her home down South.

She swears to do the same.