Imagined Reverie

Riding a late summer wind,
it happened outside of Covelo. 
Slipping into the scene, 
a late Eel River.
If I move slow and lose my skin,
I become the feeling.

Possessed by my shadow 
Softened orange glow, 
Dance me before a departing sun. 
Fire sky of smoke
A shield for my skin
Never seen like this. 
Something is ending. 
Her snake arms and lifted hair 
Who is She? 
Wild eyes bleed 
Star thistle and bare feet 
Alex bends over to remove the thorn
looking like the boy 
who was already here. 
Valley of intersections 
Into the mountains, 
dirt lifts to dust 
behind rolling tires, 
distinct and easy. 
It feels like this place is dying 
Not like most valleys in late August. 
And there is peace in this 
slipping of skin and 
sunburned grasses, 
peaked by their own reach. 
I here echoes, a boy, 
and the wisdom of those before. 
Few driveways pass by, 
leading to dreams, 
forgotten and some still held. 
I used to catch the school bus back there. 
Green and erect are the grower’s buds
While forgotten sunflowers 
droop heavy 
over bare stalks, 
as if someone stripped them, 
offered death 
for the ground to eat. 
Grapes hang 
rotund and green. 
Breathe purple into them because
Devastation is 
a child unrealized. 
I can feel the tides of a family here 
Heartbreak lingers and 
a mother’s love unbroken. 
Meanwhile the caretaker lives 
nestled quiet in the side 
Keeping the land between worlds.
Magic can slip away 
with familiarity 
Or become strengthened 
with understanding.
We walk through these lands
through gestations 
and my imagined reverie.
Restored again 
in a different beginning.

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