Mountain-side glowing
In the blue bath of moon shine
Intoxicating
As the most ripe draught
Without the side-effects of
Alcohol. Beauty
Drank in by the eyes
Absorbed by the retina
That all men thirst for.

Meadow

Putting power to the pedals
I was able to fly
Over ground, under sky
An earthbound glider, quickly flying high.

Then, a sudden quiet
As the blackened cavern spread wide
Became quite sparse, then none at all
As the solid walls of pine and cedar
Gave way to:

Shuddering, silent, shimmering sprigs of grain
Hushed as the wind lazily pattered along their tips.

Further still, a single sentinel, stood in solitude, watching over
The heads of grass and looking towards

The shadow-borne silhouettes of a
Forest untamed. Jagged peaks penetrating

Skies of the bluest blue.
The last rays of sunlight licking monoliths of granite
Crumbling gods of other eras still ruling mortals today

All stood
Watching, quietly, but surely
The meager creature that had sped into their domain.
The meager creature that had become completely entrapped.
Like the deer to his light.
Or the guru to his epiphany
So was I in the meadow.

I am dissatisfied

I am dissatisfied
With this piece
It is too trite.
The structure is too common
Too common for the subject matter
I am no pop song writer
I am an artist
A wordsmith
A listener to the soul
To the intagible
The transcendent
Which makes no sense
And guides us nonetheless

Shout your words, Muses!
Through the woods, they echo
And I hope that I may catch
A sound, a murmur, a quiet whisper
Of the wondrous things you said.

Milky

The mountains are
Much closer to
The heavens than
The sky would choose

So pouring out
Her milky white
She hides behind
A milky blush

For trav'lers see
Much more of her
Then blackest sky
Would choose to show

To other men
Entrapped in lives
Who firmly sit
In holes below

To beauty blind
They trod along
To tones, they are
Deaf, deaf to songs

She sings of things
All greater than
Those sung by mean
Who die below

To mountains, run
My invalids
Such wonder see!
Hear notes again!

Her milky blush
Made not in vain
If men can learn
Her song again