WINDSTREWN

Men tormented, like me, Are an emphatic simile Of what we Used to be. Wantingly, I tried, Forgetfully, To not remember Who I once was. ‘Til, on the eve of one November, I died again— Recalling when I was born— A sheep completely shorn Of his wool. Looking back, naked and uncool, I didn’t deserve the man I am. But a ghost of mistakes, And a growth-reflection In that glassy…

That’s dare-us. A pale blue dot.You’re not quite here… But there, in this photo—Barely a pixel. Some whistled-dismissal.A Mr. Roboto-stare; An 80s grotto;Our nowhere-near— Just stardust.

You once unfolded a list—             The door slams.     The room gasps. My sketch-paper flits to the floor;   The drape twists.       A new ache echo-rasps               ‘Fore it scrapes mortar thrice-more.                     So absurd—             I couldn’t escape to adore you…       Who’d stir to toggle the blackened clasps   O’ my passion, that eaten roar,         You deaf-unheard?        …

      Counting shelves: Been on seven slides           Of this song.     By tides, I’ve been dumbly wrong;   By tsunami, I’ve been right up to shallow shatter             On seawall.     You won’t chance a call,       While I mix some methodically Box-inscribed batter.           And why would you?       I’m a footnote, vanished ‘yond our sharp slope.       But love is true.           She stands…

Noah Kahan · Noah Kahan – Part of Me Dear, that is the way. That’s the too-dark-deep     Through any forest;           The way is finger-finding. The way is awakening   From some winding-away-sleep       To see a thing far-beyond you. You could still keep           Hold on a sing-song voice—     And its snow coming down—     As if each flake were unwound yarns In a storybook,       Or signs from…

I braid the tatters: There will be no men like me— Imperfectly found— Beyond today. Schisms as to profundity Abound, And I’ve ever-less to say. I’m deafeningly hopeless, As likely misunderstood, And utterly alone; Could pick me to the bone, Find only a hood ‘Bove a chassis motorless— I’ve gutted-gone-nowhere Whilst our rock still spins. I’m but a hollow growl ‘Midst the…

Strange, this gateless cage...

      Men—             Of my age—         Are fur-lined in an oddly ornate mange;     Proud, Coyote-sage,       Yet hid-at-home on our range.           Strange,     This gateless cage—         This rage-unwashable shroud.             When,                 By stormcloud,           Might I free that sweet pup in me again? Ursine Vulpine · Ursine Vulpine – Wicked Game Feat. Annaca

Daren’t leave it on my luck too-easily...

Yoste · Friends                         Please,             Help me not muck it up.   Daren’t leave it on my luck too-easily:             I’m quittingly queasy.                 Can’t tell if it’s you or yours truly— Might be me; no…     Almost certainly.                 ‘Cause all my hopes are the hurricane           Through our sapling-tree…                 As I tend to blow.   If even we’re…

Felippe’s Cloud · Ryan Farish – Saying Goodbye       From jumping star to star,   Tempest-sailing a solar flare, Lassoing the ice-hot comet And wince-staring into the glare   Of all glory, my fireflies in a jar;       To loose the lid, I draw tempted-near,             Only to wring it rightly tight—       But to save them,   My brightly sprites. And, with them, come streaking down   As a…

...move!

I remember when I started this website. I remember why, and somehow still get it. But it’s changed; we change. Slip or grow, we hopefully lurch forward…simply because time demands it. You can look back, but can’t go—or grow—there. You can be a student of history, but what’s done is done. You can get caged by the history-shouldn’t-repeat-itself argument, but the real deal is that we’re just…

I won't stay cautiously still...

𝖘𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖉 𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖘 ★ · are you with me – nilu (𝖘𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖉 + 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖇)           I set the weir When wolves     Rattle the cabin door;   Gone planks in the floor         Lay bare a stand.     Maybe too-complacently-bland:   Our day-to-day;               We work so-witless anyway.           But I’ve a band       ‘Cross my heart,               Binding me tightly to defend.   I won’t stay cautiously still—    …

The past's an absurdity...

                  The groove in this song           Has gravity—     It draws on me. Weirdly, rightly-wrong:     Recalled calamity           On my coattail.           It almost         Means nothing—                 The past’s an absurdity.             Or is it?       I avail my memory…     Of everything, Some a sting   On that great something         In my life.     Sweet though dry,       A…

...I've worn scarlet bands, all kinds...

Ursine Vulpine · Ursine Vulpine – Wicked Game Feat. Annaca           Are we incomplete?     No matter the tragedy or trail,         I don’t eventually fail.   Oh, I’ve momentarily failed—     In dumpster-fire-fashion. I’ve numbered rations,       I’ve socked cans.                 I’ve worn scarlet bands,                           All kinds.       I’ve turned o’er the rinds Of what’s been given…

One.

I stood still within the Wind last eve,   Let Her fingers tease my hair,     And, through squinted eyes afraid of drying,   Glimpsed Her guessing She came from nowhere     (Yet from somewhere, lest I be lying). And, lightly, She grasped me by the sleeve,   Heartened me to face the west,     Where, sourced beyond my long-shadowed arbor,   A mellow giant did seek His rest     In some recessed…

Scrambling ‘neath our dragons...

5SOS · Amnesia   I’m still scrambling ‘neath our dragons,         Trudging o’er their hot-mouth-mess.       Who, spearless and weak, were we?             To think past possible:               That fantastically improbable kiss?                 I longly pine for our innocense;               I regret our hesitance         Into the abyss.   Myopically, we risked so-infinitely-less             Than…

‘Rado

Morgan Wallen · Sand In My Boots                 Sun’ll light you up           While blindin’-bright-lovin’ on you,       And the girls suppin’ here’ll     Do the faithful-same.           Ain’t no fame—                   Might find ya’ some shame—             In that dawn-‘vaporatin’ dew       Of shyin’, not smile-n-eatin’     This red dirt’s broken-bone stew.       You might gamble on lieu,    …

bottom of the third

Crucial for creativity…     And, yet, I wincing-see:           The nativity       Of myself—               A welp-at-fifty.     It’s an absurdity… Now that I’ve but-halfway seen it.