On Ramps
a web, continuous
network and we are
engine rumbling roving
through the fallen
universe where ragged
figures roam and linger.
Trichotomy
he tried to tell them
he was one in three
and tried to warn them
about their own misery
etched across the stars
but their ears were stuffed
and their eyes were dull.
Similitude
in those familiar
eyes
I see my own
I see my space
and land
and planet
in those wings
I see a promise
of what I could be.
JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. Please check out the blog for his chapbook, truthaboutsnails.blogspot.com.
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