#august of wind

[env0writes]

A Gust of Words Vol. 4, 8.12.24 “What Room Could Be Made?"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

My feelings too big Too cute to date I am not a fruit that will spoil Not white silk to be stained How small would you make me?

What could you make of me That I cannot myself Humble me to one knee And make of me what I cannot

Bind me with a ring So that in servitude I obey Take me as too much Overflow with my joviality

Let me spill from your lips My love and my sorrow Hang like sweet summer honey Hardening sap come the autumn Will you love me for my winters?

Will I fit within your life?

[env0writes]

A Gust of Words Vol. 4, 8.27.24 “What is a God?"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

A tree can bring shade Can bring heights And great sights A tree can give syrup Can give sap Can ruin my car Can stick to my windows And seal them up tight How nature and man In tandem opposition Crash and break Against another Is deus ex Machina or Natura Where is god? In the makings Or the made As I pull glass pane Painfully into place As a surgeon might fix a bone Am I god As I set things right Shipwright to the way they were before Broken unbroken I know there is err A tree can bring shade As I can stand tall Great heights and great sights As I too stand beautiful tall I can break and take and make As sap and syrup With words and deeds Broken as it is made There is making In breaking

[env0writes]

A Gust of Words Vol. 4, 8.22.24 “The Book of Life”

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

I skimmed the book of life And found myself, what? Thirty-two and greying Already preparing to fade away Was the sky always so destined to be blue Telephone wires far from view Cloudless, starless night Between the mass-printed paperback cover Life flies so fast I skipped Winter, Spring, and Summer It feels as though Autumn is here too soon When did it become August What breeze blew me over Spun me round I fled the Widwest alley’s Tornado’s my friend, nor foe, no more Where in life did it say the word fair When not followed by weather Fair-colored complexion Multi-home complex The units are in houses The unit is the home I can’t afford one unit One litre One ounce One life How do I weigh this life The book is only half a pound Yet its mass is immeasurable I flipped the pages too fast And here I am Busy looking back at what I missed Scared of what Is on the pages ahead I keep turning pages and more appear Will it end? How far – how near?

[env0writes]

A Gust of Words Vol. 4, 8.20.24 “Irish Woodsman”

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

With burnished branded battled-axe I set about my daily tasks With downcast eyes Beneath overcast skies I move about my day Avoiding those who nay

I’ll break asunder log and strife To warm my home and wife Not many come to speak to me When, in my hand, they see I go about my day the same And go home the way I came

The bronzed sky above the clouds Above my brow and above the crowds Turns the evening’s yellowed greens To fields of luster so gold it preens How beautiful the nature glow Am I at peace amidst its show?

I walk about without much hesitation Upon my tongue alliteration Two weapons tall to always tell Another fellow ways to Hell I dare not look upon the sky above For fear of shit that’s fallen from a dove

No stain upon my lips, my word No wrath from Heaven sent incurred

[env0writes]

A Gust of Words Vol. 4, 8.15.24 “Memento's"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

I cannot toss the things that stay so long My inanimate friends You’ve seen me through harder times Longer than friends of yore And friends anew Who could ask for better friends than you About my bed Revolve my head Are trinkets I think are neat And clutter my thoughts with possessions Confessions to the white-washed walls Bind me with my bedsheets Slowly tearing apart Slowly falling apart Dust and rust and mildew You’ll do, little necklace My noose, hangs loose I cannot let you go from my breast You’ve been with me all this time Who am I? To part Friends I don’t have think it’s odd I speak for strangers But not to them And you will hear every whisper

[env0writes]

A Gust of Words Vol. 4, 8.9.24 “Laundry Day Dour"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

Now I have come to cleanse To lather and rinse and bathe I will drown my sleep Yet that too is turning In their grave In my grave? I will die where I sleep if I’m lucky But life has proven to me otherwise fortunes Fortunes that I have not That fall through my hand like stigmatize peddlers Holy are the waters that wash I have come to the end of the week And my wits Splattered across my bedsheets Spell disaster for the ‘morrow

Let me tidy my mind and my bed Wash my sheets and my head I will be born-down upon by beams of sunlight The likes of which I have seen before Yet every day find myself unprepared for Have I grown foolish or am I just as much a fool Let me bury my darling delightful delirium Take each pillow cover, sheet, and spread For come tonight, where I lay my head I will find a softer sounder snore I have come to wash away Nightmares that linger in my hair Knotted from nervous twist and pull Next week will be a problem But for today This task; I’ve done

[env0writes]

A Gust of Words Vol. 4, 8.25.24 “Death and Remembrance"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

You may kill me In every way that matters There is not in-perpetuity To my body No mechanism nor elixir that When meticulously applied will prolong My thoughts And body And mind I am not a thing of marvel Of myth Of legend I am flesh and blood And when you cut me Of course, yes – I will bleed And when I die Oh, yes, with great-little acclaim I will die Not tomorrow, nor the next It is coming, At a pace I cannot outrun When Death, my childhood friend Greets me with his hood and scythe Reaping the seeds I have sown Pulling me from the seams of life I have so painstakingly attached myself to Will I be remembered? Artefacts of my phrases Twisted and reused By friends and family Passerby students Will remnants of me linger on the lips In the thoughts In the dreams Of lives so briefly linked to mine? This body of mine Already crumbling Will become an ivory ruin Covered in rot and ruin In ashes Made ashes For new greenery to grow Will what I have done Continue to fight to exist?

[env0writes]

A Gust of Words Vol. 4, 8.13.24 “Having an Off Day"

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artists!   Photo by @env0

Days off Daze off The future is A ways off

Bullied? Plays off Finals? Play offs

What do you see In the clouds overhead A ball or a bee? Or our future’s own thread?

Will you Lay here The view So near

Clouds pass Like chance En masse With dance

Tomorrow’s still Promised What if – We kissed?

On our days off Will you daze off Watch birds Amaze us

Can we reach so high If we ever try Effortless through the sky Do they hear our sigh?

Daze off Our labor always pays off Tomorrow’s still a ways off So today I’ll simply gaze off

Waving like the tall tree leaves Into the ocean of the sky Who I was grieves Under the star-born late July

Who I want to be Is a ways off So until then I’ll see How much of this morning I can doze off