Sightings 

I walked along a trail,

Going nowhere;

The Fall’s delirium

Keeping me at bay,

The leaves cry beneath my steps,

I wonder if they had any falling regrets,

I carved you into a tree,

To leave you where the timber sleeps,

And gave you back to a world,

That knows not the way it seeps, 

My breath slow and somber, 

To the details that lay ahead, 

To the russling of the sheets,

That muddles the beds we made,

The creek whimpers to a sigh,

From the currents the day has gave,

I crossed paths with a squirrel,

Who nibbled at the fruits of the sky,

Who tussled the soil of the earth,

And ran from my prying eyes,

He left me alone,

As alone as I ever was,

To devour the recompense,

Of shaming grooves,

And things untold,

Only to the wind,

That wonders if it blows again. 

The Hills Have Eyes

By Carmine De Fazio. https://unsplash.com/carminu
Photo by Carmine De Fazio. https://unsplash.com/carminu

The hills have eyes,
And I am taunted by the buzzing of insects,
Who are nature’s daredevils.
I brush away the serene annoyance
Of a summer’s day;
A woodpecker selects his dinner,
Through bangs and scrapings,
Of a warm breeze that engulfs me
Like a warm blanket under a winter’s tree,
I ride like a cowboy,
Chewspit and all,
Gunslinging through the hills before night falls,
I ask the same questions,
Questions that have no answers,
The blood of thorns that drips down my legs,
Tells me that Earth feels my pain,
Like a dunkard I am born again,
Trees become my pews in which I repent against,
The hills have eyes,
As I mutter through its rich sublime,
I am at my most freest,
When my heart is blind.