Out of Focus

Why do I chant from the womb of summer?

An out of focus isolated dance of dreams

fruitlessly sowing wild oats that lie fallow,

hopelessly rewriting life flashing by.

A slow waltz in a subtle prelude,

looping and swaying between sky’s tears,

spinning the night with ribbons of clay

as daisies wilt in shadowed moonbeams.

My canvas sleeps in distant dawn

as I beg in my dreams to share the sun,

my unfocused faux grin in a thin white stripe,

straining to recognize the faint reflection

as kicked stone tumbles past my woods.

I walk alone in naked vignette of my life.

Why don’t I realize in my never ending dream

that there is only one race that we must run

and I am the only one who can influence

                   how it ends.