the stone wall is heavy.
time presses down
and watches
the people grow old.
it is a heavy duty
to be the observer of time.
sitting
awkwardly
are we
unmeshed and uncemented
we lack the fit
the edge
to stand the time
more than a fleeting moment.
we are false observers
interpreting the lines
etched by years of summer thunder
winter's glacial snows and ice.
did anyone ever draw
the wrinkles
contours of the age of stone.
who drew the ancient memories
following the groove in blue,
did you?
in the heavy rain
in the quiet night
under the pin prick stars.

i am
the first man
fossilized
my cranium in stone
crevassed in the gaping hole
of spider webs
and soaking moss.

one million years ago
were you here
boulder
rock
stone
pebble
grain of glistening sand.

did i crash my cranium
wondering
how to join
the slow
decent
of time gushing
slipping
through my hands.

did i
look
upon the mountain
and realize
that my rock hard fossil bones
would travel this path again.

the cool hard
the hot light
the icy wet
the warm soft
the sweet nose
the cutting ear
the white blue
the green huge
the small buzz
the itchy sting
the chaos flutter
the gentle glide
the falling drop
the reflection there
the crystal gone
the ripple shake
the line dance
the yellow sway
the song chirp
the pink face
the purple reach
the brown hush
the beginning
the end
the middle.

dogs bark madness
over the morning river.
the morning still fresh.
unbalanced eyelids
clambered wheezily
to a writing rock
the sun still a secret
the mountains hidden
by the cloudy fog.
strength is a memory
dreams still vivid
in a stranger's reality world.

people come and people go
the latter twice.
once with a haircut
and the girl was a boy.
my grandmother had said goodbye
from a house never hers
in a story foreign as stars...
and then they left again.
we waved from the street
lines of sleep
written on my arms.
come in - go out - leave
this place - my life -
my dreams.

this high and mighty rock's
a spaceship
of
mine
and i ride it.

fly it on the river's wind
cool breeze
warm breeze
freeze
this breeze
shivers my ass

as the rock hard flying seat
holds me in my currents
on this morning sunshine smile.

rock I

this is
my rock in the shade
an island world
hidden
a cliff
to the rippling pool below
a trickle river waterfall
sneaks past
a boulder microcosm
of rocks and pebbles
shaded also
from the rushing
white water streams
which hiss
in the distance
forming no sound
but the gentle
shaded
trickle
of the world standing still

rock II

the future is here
on this rock
in the river
i have daydreams
of my fellow wolf
thinking how we might
play together again...
and the water
washes
continually
the speed
reflected
in shadows of light...
mossy rock
slippy and slidy
the night cuts the light
but the washing -
ceaseless -
drowns out the world
of time...