on the beatitude of a merciful passport
me and old steel grey
swindle the archetypes of chase
our diminishing reprieve
under the fall of a planet’s eye
mother father child
devil god the wise
the old
the trickster
the hero
our collective unconscious
bottle distorted like parties
I’m tailored in the color of mesosphere
looking down on a blue pill
I think I can swallow this bacteria whole

© David Sichler

pinned with a beleaguered season
harbinger of crimson
junketeers in the hem of her skin
she has borrowed from heirlooms
fortitude taps like a beetle in a glass lung
the only audible sound
our visceral selves
somewhere a gosling cheats the arctic fox
she transcends
not a flag of the defeated
a voice unfurled
insinuating the end of rune

© David Sichler

You’ve got the job
You were born for it
Measured and weighed
Boxed in boxed out
Pigeonholed and sized up
Didn’t quite make it
Didn’t measure up
Knee high to a pup
Cup of flour for your cake
I hope it takes the weight
Of the many candles at the end
Of the fingers you count
Naming your dearest friends
Was it a success
A life lived with all your heart
A beginning with an end
Fractions in-between
If the equation equalled love
The answer is yes

©David Sichler

Mindful of the fall
I build my nest close to the ground
in the molars of society
they dress well during carnivorous spells
their captured prey spread four ways
toothpicks lance at my remains
fatal flutter between pheasant and quail
décolletage impaled
Orion stabs with first light
flocks bleed out
birds tease the memories of Perdix into a Rorschach sky

©David Sichler

Wilhemena Smith

There are creatures harder to tame than wild horses
resolute heart
lead these biased minds with a noble ride
the answer flickers an apparition
between your eyes and a white bird in flight
the jockeys have relinquished their chase of the enigmatic Mister
retrogression will read of a masquerade
ending with an unmarked grave
fours years before the masculine gender
released feminine equine dreams

©David Sichler

This soporific sound

 click click click

inducing sleep as I drift

 always checking for blind spots

the way I was taught

 with the temper you kept

 attempting to steer me from mistakes

on the flux of change

 your profile is safe in my mind

 I traced it as a boy

 the focus of my pride

 in my rear view mirror now

 sleeping parents rest

 the sun draped across our faces

 the child driving the wise

 swapping vulnerable eyes

migrate the Bass
southerlies of frigid wrecks
what do you offer Friesian pastures
kilowatt harvest
green blades knife the milk sky
graziers broken perennial life
K-9 sirens sound their passing
the windflowers are feeding city lights
conspiring in bottle necks and telephone wires
you brought no good news from the treacherous Strait

© David Sichler