Flitting

I’ve written each
In one sitting
Save for some
Where it’s not fitting
No time to wait
No hands for knitting
The words together
As they roam flitting
And should the day come
Of my committing
Padded cells
A madman spitting
I’ll scrawl the walls
No strength in quitting
For to lose the art
Is unbefitting

-Galwyn

Cards

A house of cards
Jokers pressed to kings
Weak to the strong
From the outside
A series of wishbones
Not knowing when they’ll snap
Perhaps in a lonely bed
Or in a crosswalk
While busy vehicles conceal the sound
Of plastic surfaces tumbling flat
Yet they’ll rise again
As they always do
With weary hands
And bated breath
Begin again
As the tower grows
With no projected elevation
Fingers stall, hesitate
Wondering, for a moment
If it is better to start again
Or finally fold

-Galwyn

Raindrops

The timid rain comes at night
Decending so softly
Like children down moonlit stairs
The opressive sun sleeps
While the water rises
Shining on green blades
And inky black streets
Quartz stones
Once faded by dust
Glisten so cautiously
From forest trails
And long barren roads
Yet this beauty will be ignored
For the sightless sound
Of recycled water
That which has seen everywhere
And been in everything
The soul of mankind
Is not etherical and fantastical
No
It is wet and rhythmic
Raindrops of windowsills
And heartbeats in chests
Our treasure
Like us, born from nature
And fated to return to it
Until last light dries it

Bewitched

Boil and bubble
Toil and trouble
Flying over lovely rubble
Broomstick bristles
Verbal thistles
Piercing hearts with magic missiles
Pointed hats
Snakes and rats
Onyx fur on mewing cats
Bitter curses
Chanting verses
Hateful tongues of lies coerces
Don’t melt from tears
No spells for fears
Bewitching hour – disappears

-Galwyn

Honeysuckle

Pull every honeysuckle
Off from the chainlink fence
Thick gloss black paint
With blistering scabs of rust
Pale petals sprouted forth
A natural gradient from pure white
To healthy green
Upon the smooth waxy stems
Snap one off between your fingers
The thin feelers inside
Hungry for pollen
If it suits you
Pull them out
Place the flower to your lips
And taste the sweet flavor
Not one that is bottled
Or packaged
But rather the faint breeze
Of the spring air
Gusting its way into your lungs
From the fresh wound
Which drips with nature’s nectar

-Galwyn

Animals

Your voice
Distant and soft
A long smooth breeze
Like from a hummingbird’s wings
It calls to me
Through woods
Over water
And on the air
I’ll run, swim, and fly to you
Padded feet flicking the soil
Hips swaying rapid like the river
Feathers stretched warm in the sun

Like a fawn to a doe
Or a wolf to its mark
Warm blood
Tooth and nail
I’ll hunt you
From one predator to another
We nip and play
And sleep under the moonlight

I awaken alone, as every dawn
And wait
Till the light cracks the horizon
Twitching my ears
And tilting my head
Your voice
It sends me on my way
Through another day
And should I find you-
When, I find you

We should clench every moment
With sharp claws
And brute strength
Here in the restless wild
As we need not forget
And cannot deny
That animals have no souls

-Galwyn

Stick Around

Not too far
Not so fast
Hate your life
But make it last
If you want the truth as clear as glass
Know liers love you once you’ve passed

-Galwyn

Amber

A smooth apricot bubble
Harder than stone
Sits spinning on a table
Betwixt some idle jewelers fingers
I spin

A gnat petrified within
Holding my last breath
Of a time long passed
It burns my lungs like bitter acid
I wait

The world spinning around
As my stomach lurches
My amber prison shines
As time passes without me
I age

Body in atrophy
Spirit immobile
My world is so small
Observations wide, but travels narrow
I sigh

Why worship the air
When my wings have died
I’ll stay here in my gem
From the joy of the outside I admit
I lost

Grim

Liquid memories
In wicker baskets
Seldom agony
In heavy caskets
Hide your face
Before they ask it
If told the truth
They’d blow a gasket

Straight Line

A straight line
Lonesome desert road
No forks or turns
Only the rattling of an abject motor
Four cylinders pumping away
From Eden to Abaddon
No detour for Providence
Smacks on the windshield
Bug guts
Broken buzzing
A dull monitor
With no monitors
A straight line
No peaks with frigid tips
No noon-warmed vales
No soaring birds of paradise
Nor grim raven’s caw
A life of no peaks or plummets
Only the numb anticipation
All for nothing
Fate strings the line
Such that it might break
Never to hum a love song
Or resonate sorrow
A straight line
One between you and me
Holding us apart
Cold and sharp
While the coiled wire
Between you and another
Is wound tightly
Glowing orange and warm
It lets you sleep beside them
Their highs and lows flavor your life
While my soul runs long and sharp
Like blade to empty heart
A straight line

-Galwyn