The Shape I'm In

 How much I miss
to moss-in-love,
holding the mold
to gorgon-stone,

a lifetime ago, this
ancient road.

Horizons beam
my wanderlust dream:

I am dim of years
in the dandelion-blaze
with my bobcat-smarts
in field mouse-bait...

still sleek From Behind
with the Sun Going-Down
‘til morning lurks
to hone the worm…

& I (alone,

 at-night,
 aloof-on-hooves
 & rambling for love
 at the Back of Beyond),

wish-to-bite
these curious skies
with reborn eyes,

on the firefly wings
‘cross the ranging twang.

The countryside crows
(with a craggily-bent)
these hard-up-hills
to the faceless brunt.

I brow my spells
in leafy-black
where halfskulls moon
in pretty-pink.



(Colors-to-dust
  by the lush of dusk)

 :

I am mossed & made
on the honey.bear mark.

I mulch & murk
'til the unicorn drinks.



How little you miss
to dwell-in-stone
these forgotten roads
a lifetime ago.

Horizon sings
of wandering things.

That perpetual gaze
of rock & gust.