spectacular in the jagged edges of mind

Still Life, 1907 by John Frederick Peto 

steaming earth burns the feet
jagged edges of rock bleed them further

I am so intimate with my hat
yet I have that umbrella too
merciless sun hits me hard

I trudge along all alone
on that lonely dry path
my feet dragging in that forceful way

I thirst for water, to sustain me
but I fall flat on that ground
which embraces me to its breast

all my stuff now hooked to a nail
while I am but dust in the Universe
my soul walking any place it wishes

no bleeding marks anywhere,
no dried out bones either
not even a photograph on that wall

"maybe a memory in someone's mind
not that I expect that as I am gone now"

where the night is without wind

Artwork by Ulrike Bolenz

stuck in the mud
her hands and feet

suppose she is searching 
the geometry of her origin

the lines, that curve, and an angle
throw her a lifeline

netted wings, broken at places
urge her to fly

her tears wet the ground
cementing her fate

"a seedling, perched on the earth
needles the mind, to prod, to incite"