Outside Temporal Confines, pastel by Nochipa, Feb. 2008

Bleeding rose in night sky

lights the way to safe haven

at the end of known things,

where time is windswept sands

washed out to sea before human prints

thread the shores.

 A path without horizons

or points of origins leads past

the harbor where our family lies

in slumber

as the theif of earth,

weighted by all he has stolen,

trips over the ropes of his own traps

then falls into the lake

whose flames never die.

[The Flute, pencil 2001, by Nochipa D.]

“Shhh,”

the dry grasses whisper

as I walk by,

“Make your steps

soft so you can hear the wind

breathe through us

like lips upon a flute.”

“Sit for a while,

over there

under the juniper tree

and remember the smell

of warming February earth.”