Thursday, November 29, 2018

I don't know where the flowers run anymore,
I don't know where the brick path leads.
Once, I searched for bottles on a deserted shore--
I knew well where sky and ocean would meet--

But our certainty crumbles like sand over time,
We live as things are, not how they should be,
And all our right paths turn left in the end,
Or dead-end at a pondersome sea.

So I don't know anymore why the willows grow tall,
Why the skylark calls, why the sunset bleeds.
I really can't say what I want from this world,
But the world will always have me.

Wednesday, November 28, 2018

Quiet, Beautiful

June 1st, 2018

Quiet, beautiful
Back to the road where the tower waits

Back to the gray mountains
Back to the dead plains

Back to the mist where he kept you
Back to the throne where you slept
Back to the frost windows, the curtains drawn, the poison drank, the skin cold, the gums white,
the blood dried, the door cracked--


She escaped for a time, she did


but she couldn't

Go back

Who are we, but a voice
singular and powerful,
a letter written to the stars
 of a civilization wandering--
the lonely soul of a planet, drifting--

Sunday, November 25, 2018


From a young age, I loved cemeteries.
Their smell, the fresh cut grass,
     (in the old kingdom, always a layer of dew or frost)
the endless mystery of named stones
stretching far away. I wanted to run deep into
those woods and find the lost tomb of Annwn
that stood like a gateway, a pyramid—
     (In the old kingdom, it led to the white land
      where fairies roamed)
—where treasure was buried—and a legacy—
a family affair.

Wherever you are....

March 14th, 2018

I hope wherever you are
The sky is far deeper and more expansive
The clouds are far lower and vast and full of moods
The grass is tall enough to touch your palms
And the music is so much greater
Swelling through the firmament of the storm and building into your soul
Wherever you are, that music, that love, that spirit,
I hope you know.

~T. L. Shreffler


March 13th, 2018

So what is it?
What are the train tracks?
What is the railroad?

What is
The roaring sound in the background
Growing behind you, spreading in front of you, building to the second it finds you --
What is that screaming steel running through you?

Perhaps it is you.

~T. L. Shreffler

Pieces from February 21, 2018


Here is the tree where the tomb rested. And here are the roots
where I've been asleep. Deep you must go to find your peace.
Only in safety will the past release itself. Only in layers
do we reveal our true selves, our true hearts, not to be healed
but to be inspected and adored like stained glass bottles, saltworn,
under caring fingertips: delicate, distorted, brilliant.

* * *


I need the days to be brighter and longer.
I need the sun to stay upright.
I need the warmth, the bond, the touch, the caress, the light.