Sunset
Some evenings just before
Sunset you see thousands
Of birds, black dots against
Sky, raving around each other,
Draw a line in blood,
Or smoke, or hope,
You won’t be able to
Map it all the way.
Somewhere in black dark
We know we originate,
A whisper in our bodies,
The story of intersecting lines.
Night on the spine of
Highway, cone-glow
Headlights stretching
Into nowhere–
Hitch-hiking off the
shoulder of consciousness,
Swarming, songs stranded,
Indecipherable lines in chaos,
Push the pedal down,
Lean into the speed of
Embracing blank space,
Inhaling cold air.
Push the pedal,
Flip down the lights,
Fly by dust, swirled
In starlight,
Push the pedal
Down
down
into
the
tree-root
lines
that
trace
us
into
history's
open
depths
Poet’s Note
I approach poetry as a conversation between my consciousness and the living field of energy in the universe that we cannot see. Imagery born from fragments of the seen world, threaded together by leaping associations, gives consciousness the opportunity to approach the experience of life (in all its forms), ultimately, from a space of celebration and gratitude.