Let the Words

Breath escapes like ghosts Pavement is glittered with Frozen speckles of moisture Walking steady. Hours Pass. Mars flashes silver and crimson Milky Way sways dreamily Smiles fantastically Looks like the frozen speckled Highway Walking steady. Hours pass. Sitka spruce pray silently in Dark shadows while headlights Roar and blind by Walking Steady. Hours pass. City lights cast hazy oranges Thunder Mountain sleeps massively Majestic Walking Steady. Hours Pass. Dead and dormant alders and willows Skeletons of seasons passed, shiver With winter winds Walking Steady. Hours Pass. Welcome Home.

In the first days of Autumn, before bright leaves began to fall, Daniel purposely severed off his pinky finger. "Fucking Christ!" he screamed, while trying to hack through the bone with a dull machete. "Jesus!" Thwack. "FUCKING." Thwack. "Christ!" Thwack. "Sweet." Thwack. "Lord." Thwack. "WHY!" Thwack. "Ahh. Theeere she is." Daniel brought the finger to his lower lip and gently rubbed. "So soft and smooth." He whispered, "So cool. So wonderful." A steady stream of blood pitter patted on the grey wet cement. It swirled with the falling fresh rain – a psychedelic flexible dance. He smiled dreamily and held up the pinky like an Olympic torch. Daniel ran. Hard heated heavy breathing. Splash – Thump, Thump – Splash – Thump, Thump. He needed to get to the post office before it closed, it was nearly six o'clock. Maple trees danced a crazy dance with the wild whirling...

I tripped on stupidity yesterday Its name was Human Greed. Rousing myself After the fall I wept at Greed's Beautiful feet. Plated In gold, engraved with A note "Men are cruel, man is kind."

Ryan gazed past the thin snow covered undergrowth of the stunted forest. Through the branches, the ocean teemed and tossed under a peach winter sunset. His face hot, tingly and numb. He breathed, making clouds in the crisp air. The island was silent. Ryan's parents and his sister, Mary, went out to pull crab pots for tomorrow's Thanksgiving dinner. Wetness and wisps of steam glistened off his burning face. Out behind his father's fishing and hunting gear shack, Ryan found an old rope. The rope had been coiled up and left to rot under leaves and seasons, too old and brittle to be used as an anchor line anymore. Ryan sawed at the wiry rope with his silver Leatherman, giving himself about ten feet of line. Bits and pieces of frozen seaweed and jellyfish hugged at sections of the rope. Ryan smelled low tide. Ryan clenched at the salty, stiff, sun-washed rope as he coiled the line around the inside of his palm and outer elbow. He searched for his parent's skiff plowing ...

Standing here at this Goddamn grave I realize you've never even given me a chance, never gave yourself a chance, always drowning yourself in those fucking brown bottles, looking for light, finding nothing but piss warm dark corners, people passing you by, staring at your insanity, and there you are, looming out those beautiful green eyes, dumb and lost, a stray wet dog, begging for a reason, pleading for answers, trying to remember how things got this way, was it the green wool uniform or what it made you do, was it grandpa's belt and his Budweiser or aunties screams after bouts with Jack's bottle or the sons and daughters you never raised, what, what was it, tell me, I want you to tell me that you remember the good times, before I tossed this cold wet dirt over your shiny blue casket, do you remember the puffs of baby powder that were padded over my buck naked body because of that itchy red rash, you called me a sad looking turkey, laughter was your thing, that's what ...

A history has unfolded before our eye's that needs to be told. It is a history that entails a government that has apparently manipulated and twisted peoples fears to conduct a war on premises that later turned out to be an unqualified falsification of the facts – the truth about this war revolves around intensions of political maneuverings, greed, and grotesque perpetuations of an imperialistic "democracy." The history which has unveiled itself under the current administration has proven itself as one in which corruption, ineptitude, deceit, hate, and freighting displays of political mongering, are common, even accepted, practices and precepts. The history of our time has shown, over and over again, that our press and media's integrity has quickly eroded at the feet of corporate interests for profit, rife with political slants which contort and strangle any relation to reality. We are left hearing and watching programs which falsify facts (or completely avoid them) an...

A struggle ensued, which now has passed. There is sweat. Feet and rock and sweat. Now wind and chill. A panorama of snow splotched mountains. Forever peaks. Endless ecstasy blow brisk winds. There is sweat, once sticky and hot, now slimy cold clams. This height is thunder. Electric cliffs of life are Grandfathers' faces These rocks are hunger. Barren black and white rocky ridges Eat passing feet Here is art. Ruffled blankets of earth After peaceful sex