home's worries are phantoms
in the firelight's shadows
writhing in a hungry feral dance
and then sinking to a glowing waltz; two steps.

in this day's death, the liberty to live again
in me, is born. flickering fingers of peace
small like a butterfly
beating his wings on a dying coal.

moist earth, rich as brownies, crumbly on my feet
the orioles fat flight of fancy,
to the zest of marigold musk knitted in my hair

a guitar echoes the night. the bass notes for energy
slowly sinking. the melody to lyrisize
the passion of the day. the sound of the wild, a rhythmic
frightless pulse surrounds us thickly; a heartbeat in a womb

one breath of the dry truth of the burning wood
a hyssop to my thoughts. the domeless skies
stretching images across ages of light, souls faded
to the other side, spaces unknown.

somewhere i see an angel in a poncho blowing
on a glass harmonica 2/4 time, and Em,
sucking on a wrinkiled apple, pointing
at the blemishes, but how...