An i to an eye

Early morning
Watching pachyderms
Gracing a piece of the earth
Endless berth
Feathers all around
Moving so that they've time to take conscienced chances

What kind of prayer does one make to preserve the inner laughter?

Eyes rooted always in
Weathered folds of hide
braced against the wind
Dirty clouds of dust
masking all the signs
Does the thought of loss, something left behind
make the present painfully clear

living here?

I saw you slit your eyes with your stained glass scissors
They oozed incensed
Smoke dissolving the varnish on your shellacked robe
I saw conception in your bowels
An infusion into your arterial beliefs

It emanated from its filthy hands
And lifted its shriveled shoulders
I saw it molt
And drop its template on the courtyard
Walked out into the skinned night
A sight for sore eyes

Shallow evening
Symbiotic birds
eating the bugs off of hides
Endless blurs
Watch their flight
Cutting clouds like the scythes that have finished harvest

What kind of dark does it take to release an act of thunder?

Eyes rooted always in
Weathered folds of hide
braced against the wind
Dirty clouds of dust
masking all the fight
Like an afterflash rumbling in the night
I will think of being here

Living dear