Between The Ears

Don’t look up to me for a flash
On your knees through what thunder?


Says Nature And That Kept Bloody History Of Ours

We all need love and know not what to do with it.

Small storm that, like most everything is from the mountaintop.

Little need looking down,
But to wonder:

Why hide? What is hidden?

Under clouds, roofs;
Behind doors, masks,
Why hide what cannot be hidden?

History says,
What’s hidden is what kills, finally.

Nature says,
Whether to climb up the mountain
Or out of your kept self,
You need only cut a path—

Which is so simple you’ve got to love it.