Silence speaks —
its say beheld in its
own truth laid bare

Its voice is deeply felt
but rarely revealed
in the tight economy
of considered words
it quietly whispers —

The reality it bares,
soundlessly eroding with a
shameless emotional deluge
that rivers through
the poet's heart

When you feel alone
in a crowded room,
you overhear the drone
a racing heartbeat ...

    When you're
going down the road
feeling bad,  chasing
    the centerline,
reckoning some kind
a life passing by
out the rolled down
       window ;
hearken in nature's
     tone poems
blowin' in the wind
                                                            ­    ­
    It  was  thence
    i came to know
my sum of simple truth:
Organically self-wrought
Environmentally  molded
    from the clay of life
    a survivor of many
    a passing storm

    Season's change,
water seeks its own level
The silt does not get to say
how far down stream
   the river carries it

and we still wind up
in the same old place
parsing the watermark 
       stains of time

and a poet — is not a word
i'll longer use to describe
   who i've become


harlon rivers ... December 7th, 2018

Waning  dappled  moonlight mantles
the margin at the wild-wood edge
Stiff tufts of summer dried grass spears
sporadically sway — raking against
the  scarlet  poison  oak  leaves
gently sweeping away the moonlit silence
airing the sounds of velvet antlers rubbing
barkless mountain willow trunks bare

Subtle nuances constantly animate
twilights rhythm;  heaven flickers
upon a dark umbrage of forest pillars
softly as a candlelight’s  fluttering  glow
evanescing  half way  across  the  sky;
the  sparse  illumined  clouds  stream through
the lambent halo around the rutting moon
fleeting in the blink  of  sleepless eyes

and like the silent touch of a talisman,
transfixed eyes are entranced by all
the  restless  night  disrobes,
captured and cocooned by the seeker’s
awakened senses

An erratic,  familiar feral bark peals haughtily;
a pack of maturing spring pups yip, bellow and shriek
in youthful pursuit;  the howling report back,
ignited by the scent of a rabbit's paling squeal,
aroused by the pulse of brother wolf
rippling deeply through their blood

The dried grass game-trail crackles towards the ridge top:
an aging full moon is not enough skylight
to see beyond a seeker’s stirring silent reverie
the coyote choir’s sudden reveling echoes rekindling
an extraordinary sheltering intimacy within;

bending slithers of moonlight into a dull moonlight mantle
but I can feel its weight breaking me ,... forlorn I can't physically
reach out to touch them in an absolving moment  —
understanding love was always the purpose of being ,...

futilely repining — I  can't  face  myself  alone  again


            harlon rivers ... October  2019                                                  

.

My starless nights have transcended into your shadowless morn

My lost fireflies have transcended into your guiding stars upon the sky

My tears of dews and rain have transcended into your ocean of fulfillment and happiness

My scattered breadcrumbs of thoughts have transcended into your tome of love and life

My moments of a passing glance have transcended into your eternity of within my sight

My fear of everything have transcended into your love of all beings, earthly and otherwise

And I

My lonesome I have transcended into your ever-presence

As you hold me through every particle of my soul

I felt alive

Sharp twinges burst through my body like fireworks in the dead of the night

And finally

The blink of me transcended through time

Bruises are supernovas under your skin,
Your lover likes to experience life to the fullest.
you don’t stop them when they get angry because they’re all you’ve got.
Scratches on your face are asteroid belts,
They hit you last week because you got home late.
You don’t say anything as you cover them with makeup and move on.
Busted lips are solar flares,
they make a mess and irritate you.  
You don’t move when their arms start flailing.
Broken bones are the time-space continuum,
In the hospital you don’t say anything,
they say that they won’t touch you like that anymore.
The drug addiction is a **** blackhole,
It’s ******* the life out of you,
They stay out late. They don’t look at you.
Cutting is the stellar nursery,
welcome to the end yet beginning of your new life.
Your parents know they’ve done something to you.
The expansion of the universe loses a star or two.
But the abuse just like the universe,
hard to imagine.