Blind

i am a blind man which way shall i go
crossing

is this the valley where the bones stitch themselves whole
falling forward

touching her flesh brings nothing back but nothing
rushing

funnel me down step by step until i’m wet with the last wave
collapsing

staring into that warmth burning in my sockets i know
emergence

sluiced it rises to meet what is at last
birthing


S.C. Hickman ©2021

the lingering

death is always lingering in the air
the hoofprints of another always vanishing

and we like wounded deer follow the scent
knowing we will be edged into judgment

no one can speak to those moments
the solitary agon of desperate thoughts failing

in that darkness where even ghosts lose themselves
we find her laying there in a pool of blood

we would like to meld our mind to hers
know what she knows as the last thought leaves


S.C. Hickman ©2021

Bones of the Earth

the bones of the earth have lost their luster
no one left to acknowledge their light

even the rust colludes with the chemical death of giants
somber eyes sinking into black holes lifeless fold into this darkness

it is expected that the weather will change
even now the dead oceans churn to a slow forgetfulness

what will rise out of this ash to sing
when the day is long and nothing remains but these blanched sheaves


S.C. Hickman ©2021