Age

stone temple ruins-
echoes of ancient bronze bells
call the monks to prayer
–
summer sunlight-
wending through
the splintered roof

living on the edge –
tasting the forbidden fruit
and consequences
–
future regrets-
I send a drink
down the bar

a rusting iron gate-
beyond the overgrown path
crumbling headstones
–
bristlecone pines-
deeply rooted
to the earth

my journal entry-
today I start another
lap around the sun
–
willow branches-
a crack appears
in the robin’s egg

all the leaves scattered
standing despite itself but
rotten at the core
–
a forest altar-
oaken pews
standing empty

monsters in my head
clamor at the gates of hell
screaming to be let out
–
the hiss of rain-
slow scratching
under my bed

shut in this fortress
long days spent looking over
my kingdom of sand
–
rising tides-
my castle begins
to crumble

the burning red orb
casts its gaze about the land
hard and unblinking
–
ragweed-
my eyes swollen
and gritty

as the sun goes down-
I turn the final pages
of this well worn book
–
a ashen moon-
mist descends
upon the moors

the ragtop put down
bare feet up on the dashboard
red hair in the wind
–
pacific coast highway-
california dreamin’
on the radio