shiny is the talisman
by tanner brockwell
shiny is the talisman
guarded sure
left in the open
where the wild was
and the free
and no one ever saw
that you were there
all the while
held close
in that hidden part
that is so hard to free
silent and only
the center that makes one whole
drifting
no tethers caught
just iridescence
and the empty spots
no one ever saw
nobodies in a way
by tanner brockwell
nobodies in a way
the lost semblance
of dreams and inbetween
the sets and yet
anytime i dream
is another world
seems to me in dreams
the way we were
ways we are
on hold for dreams
that appear and drift
upon hidden breaths
that appeared
on the crisp dawn
a season drifting on
drifts that hide
the sleeping rose
sleeps for spring
replenishing dew
crystal
by tanner brockwell
crystal
tone
far from
far home
in the night there was cold
and dark
and the pin points
of night
in night
the message
wrapped in layers
ambiguous
mythic
terrifying
potentialities
whispered as portent
or facts
or field notes
found crumpled
left for refuse
that another picked up
ironed out
and carefully
each scratch and wrinkle
significant
certainly
certain in fact
for it was written
and preserved
and saved
because
antiques are the afterthoughts
a mixed jumble
brought together
second hand
curious that you wrote
by tanner brockwell
curious that you wrote
only once with ink
now every word
flows
imbued
drenched in the sweetness
alluring and rich
nourishing
though plentiful
eternity
haunts locale
by tanner brockwell
haunts locale
the wiss of the speeding wheel
slishing past
windows paint and chrome
the sound of welcome
the sound of home
busy as you want to
or stop in the streetlight cast
at 2am far
and wonder if there is another star
glints and true
they are past horizon
way overdue
and winking gleeful
they assume that throne
the past is starried
a star from home
raining forever
by tanner brockwell
raining forever
the mist clung forest
pipe blows faint
life bringer
gifts
there is many
even
clear
rails and ties
hard wheels
miles
rolling over
bed roll
bed
that’s a joke
tired enough
woke half a state
in the dream
fingers tracing
power lines
imperceptible
unseen guides
the aider
again
old friend
knocking ghosts
by tanner brockwell
knocking ghosts
rattles in the night
lights upon
the winding road
wet with late evening rain
winding so winding again
bitter cold still far away
cold as here or cold may stay
the shadows upon path
where walking dark in the past
barely lit barely seen
glaces upon a spectral sheen
the pulsing throb of rotating blades
illusory transitory upon memory
up late for ending week
finding sudden sleep
written for
by tanner brockwell
written for
for it is
the movement of time
the stumble of planets
olympian cold
seasons gone
for the blowing wind
the chasing wind
the edge of knife
cold against the skin
this is utterance
this is the cosmic dance
where time is left
in ruts and ways
the slipped foot trips
and sprawling plays
to lighter fare to other ways
the for past passed
past the gaze
just a winding dune
dusty then
dune has become alps
in surmounted
the tracking tread
busted drive
left blips and trace
respondent to cursory flags
rewriting the core
rerouting paths
to get moving again
out of the mire
of endless dust
noble indeed
by tanner brockwell
noble indeed
if even there is a need
still the searching
the rustles of footsteps
upon the autumn floor
the lone trees barren
on the edge of the field
carpeted with the sense of the world
fitting and fitted
a noisome spangle
behold the empty sleeves
a glum silence hung
stuffed with golden straw
threads for eyes that stared
empty and alone
these eyes glassed
magnified even amplified
the hollow deep inside
and dusk arrives
with a jangle and a dance
moon up the boughs gentle see
hold the earth and sky
life supreme
the worlds at ease
time enough
time to see
