poems by Ayaz Daryl Nielsen

personal mud pies

mulch of my

earthen history

 

 

 

There is always a knowing

an understanding

a remembering

adding each of us

to the sum total

of all of us.

 

 

 

Early Morning

 

Awakening as house still clings to a nighttime chill,

seemingly my own self as stars begin to fade

and lingering dreams seek other shores.

It’s early, muscle, bone, mind, and stomach

have yet to protest as this today

embraces and consecrates our home.

 

 

 

no exit from

hallways of grief

for those who

build them

 

 

 

There are immense expanses

wrapped within the

sugared mists of dawn

The kisses of ripe plums,

the musical threads within,

behind and before

each of us

as if, after these many years,

the lingering taste

of grandma’s

homemade pie.

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