Prairie Sky

Skies of amber, world of glass
the buckled, bleached bones
of the soft sea bed
roll away, pass away
fickle wind

Sunset satin draped, colors unbound
too many shades to call a name
horizon gone
sail away, shadow’s dawn
scented wind

The sky is a landscape
with furrows and frowns
the dappled shadows cast, shadows gained
soft as down, falling down
weary sky

and the on of this and the dawn of this
and the call of this, the open disk
of glass, concave and looking inward
leave it to the fall of this and fragile
fall and break of breaking day
new night

Fence of metal, black and burned
the stone casts a shadow on the dull white brown
and carved in clay
the gravestone seems to say
am I?

Cascade

The torn curtain tugs frantically
against the tightened tethers
wind and cold and the dust of late winter
blowing off the streets
pick up and be gone
but gone ain’t getting us nowhere
so just ease back in and hope that it goes unnoticed
the turret lights the world
and the absence of color is color
can’t you see
but that too goes dauntingly unnoticed
in the absence of attention
and the current of humanity pulls against the tightened tethers
and the newsman prattles on at the end
both ends
of the line
and the headscarf clown jumps around corners
naturally to scare the toasted and toast-giving
each in time
and mime surprise
and speak up
the drums roll just a little too loud
and walk on
and pull and tug at the anchor rope
it’s holding us down
and gap
pause
break
and lose the train of mimicry.