World, becomes dense
alters assumed constellation
to starry force
Masked with stellar sense.
Land into sea—
Drowned, a little-felt nation
smother another course
lest they cease to be.
Life awaits the morrow…
flap fall air under their wings,
soon they will depart.
Summer’s last dry wind
sunlight fades, leaves crisp, and fall
into a solstice.
In a brown twig drey
up a snow-covered pine tree
Home to prickly pines and Douglas fir,
Hoh rain forest, a carpet of licorice fern.
Emerald beards coat every surface
over-grown facial hair or mask?
Timbers moistened by sulfur rain, exudes
rich cedar, ripe pine and old oak’s…
Death doesn’t feel real when you read about it on Facebook
which is why I keep looking for your face in pedestrians near campus
because I saw you biking last month outside our journalism class.
Death doesn’t feel real when you read…