At the gates of the medicine wheel

Broken open at each pass to the south

Colors skewed at youth in the arms of the grandmother

Trust built on two thrones driven by the fire

Stardust casting invisible walls to rage against

Broken open to loose control of fragmented opinion to dynamic confusion

Combustible under a blanket of feathers and beds made of tree cover

Misty windows pointed toward the dawn

Tinted black for hiding to take flight

Broken open in death while living surrendered to the word

Poetry

Replacing the journal of time and records in the ethers

Touching light just long enough to see past shortcomings manifested in maddening swells

Warm hearted to embrace the ground keeping the senses in check

Broken open in body and blood

Left to echoing snapshots of a chaotic space lost to the electric lobes vibrating the drums at night

Grabbing tightly to tiny fingers looking for the volcano of feminine essence

Broken open by fears and Holy Spirit thatched calmly with the sound of distant thunder

Hanging sparks of danger in captivated observance, locking feet in place determined to swim

No shelter

In the open

Flagging prayers plotting a course just beyond knowing

New roots coming on the heals of monsters and sagebrush

In the broken

Spots running across the scent of lilac in the doorway to mystery

Broken open.