that's mrs. mediocrity to you

::

what you see

is what you get

::

dawn is the ritual of future
pink promise potential
to bury beneath
the quilt of day

in the silence
your eyes are silhouettes
the deep of between
with a hint of purple

vines become shackles
as you scramble to the top
turning twisting twining
green ropes to hold you

up to the sun as you sing
your blues to an audience
of arbitrary fascination
spinning false tales

in the spotlight

of sound

.

.

.

Linking up with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night, join us!

the corn is thirsty

the farmers are hungry

vultures are sated

and herons

have moved on to greener pastures

i can’t see the beginning

or hear the end

i am cracked and bone dry brittle

i dance beneath the blue

of the somebody said so moon

i am alone but not at all lonely

i pitch a tent and

sit cross-legged in the dark

trees whisper of water

longing is an empty form of love

dehydration is the blind form of longing

and forty days would never be enough

to save us

from the landscape

of our lives