land god

the arc of my back bridges the sky and the thing below it

my body holds my own suffering in it and blends with the tributaries that flow so constant and fresh into my head

i dig my hands into the tree and it stretches up into my leafy fingertips

i spread my arms in the soil and the carpet ripples above with my sigh

my eye feeds the plants and fauna with enriching summer gaze

the puddles are my pooling sweat from creative effort

grass blades are the hairs on the back of my neck

they sweep in the wind of my breath and the dew is my morning tears placed on needle point


Mythic crust of ice on mountain

Peeled off.

The growing top uncapped, stretches stairs

strung into airy wilderness,

and beaming summer light,

pushed into extended, atmospheric height.

Titans shuffle underneath bars of their own making,


Thorned and fleshy hands scrape the base of the hill.

wheel of fortune/ rota fortunae

clockwork creak

of fickle Fortune

desperate clawing hands sweat on the underside, sliding, slipping, with the creek below

It pulls them up for a taste of the top

wary ascent against the plunging parallel,

ghoulish faces spread into gaping masks with the heavy weight

the burden of the return to the underside of the wheel

melancholy coin flip, kick of the spoked machine

nonchalant twirl of mighty finger on spinning wheel,

flicked with apathy

certain suffering for the unfortunate

turns at the axis but can’t roll away

sewn to the spinner until the thread is snapped with teeth

via Daily Prompt: Wheel