dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: wind

the sin we’ve sown
chokes as it blooms
bright yellow,
its dark face mocks the sun

the skin we’ve grown
shifts with weight
and worry,
and wisdom doesn’t keep
the wrinkles away

the wind we’ve known
lifts grime and treasure
with the same late whistle
to which trees, grass, and legs
tremble and sway
like ticks holding on
to skin and blood

We are not significantly
Different than starfish.
Basically besides development,
We’re emphatically
The same.

We swim in wind
And spin
With all five points into the blue.
And nothing’s new
And we’re not old
Under the sun.

When I die
I think I’d like to
Dry out on warm sand,
Then when as hard as bones,
On sea foam
Float away.

each thought hung outside,

pinched by a clothespin,

waiting limply

to be returned to dark,

cool drawers

where the wind doesn’t

blow through,

showing the sun

what’s been

worn thin.

Billboards have snatched
Beauty from the breeze.

Now people say
Stay in the canoe,
No shoes, no trips
Into the cornfield.

Leave the pet raccoon
In the woods 
And get a rabies shot.

People splatter paint
The colors of the wind-
That’s art, you see,

But you’d have to
Go to a museum.