But even quiet boys will eventually attract the attention of wolves.
Outstretched feeble hands, the mournful tree—sighed, my evergreen love.
A fading record, scarlet horses ignite dunes, erosive devils.
My steps grow shorter. A cloak of snow longer than my imagination can muster weighs upon weary bones.
Every passing year, a dragon’s breath smothering the anguished tundra. I wish I took better care of this once pristine body.
Open fire crackles
as the naked wood recedes
A weeping hydra its seed sowed; the revealing— snapdragons’ repose
I’ve always held a fascination for ancient mythologies. They are the dawn of the coalescence between art, religion, and storytelling.
pushing for an audience
in praise of the sun
Skating on thin ice
snow balanced on treetops—snap!