It was a hard winter though it rarely froze In a pleasant, desperate search I walk the entire park for respite A tuft of purple crocuses The sniff of a dog Little waterfalls The bend of the river Will it be enough? Intuition indicates the right path I hesitate, but take it Such a long walk — for what? and to go the whole way — it's getting late I reach the horses’ ring The naked woods are on fire The bold sun hovers atop the hill yonder, its rays a kaleidoscopic crown, as if waiting for me the whole time
Good ol’ days
Mercifully temperate summer days glide into autumn. The footfalls of my vintage recently-purchased Doc Martens sandals advance on air. The pedals of my quaint just-restored Bianchi Parco churn in silence.
Oh my god, (my lover?) You swaddle me in bounty. Why do I rebel? My heart – which you fashioned – burns.
A lacerated heart, scar-encrusted, still bleeding, (oh, where does the blood go?) is still a heart, still a heart, still a heart,
Tom and Jerry
To you, it is a game; To me, life and death; To be alive, caught in your gaze, bandied about by your banter: a predicament worth dying for.
I go on tumblr for pornography: the beautiful kind, the breathtaking kind, the crumpling kind. Over the months I had my smattering of likes: the ones I gave my heart to. One tumblr led to another which led to another, Till that one night I stumbled on that heavenly site: Each post stunning, each post stole my heart, and it was endless. I am cured.
After a fashion
And thus the Lord created Adam and furnished unto him Eden And Adam plucked the fruit too early And, lo, Adam was dismayed and he called unto the Lord “Lord, why hath thou forsaken me? “I have tasted of your fruit and have found it hard and bitter.” The Lord saw before Him the morning of His Glory — Perfection in every blade of grass, every seed, and every hair on Adam’s head. And the Light of God’s Grin shown upon Adam “Adam, it is your own fashioning. “And I assure you: there is not a bad thing in Eden, not even your fashioning.”
I sought and sought until it all became Hocus Pocus; then I realized it always was.
Winter Sunset Through My North-facing Bedroom Windows
A mountain of blue-gray looms over the dark horizon bouyed by a soft expanse of pink and the delicate, ruddy strip of peaceful, glowering foothillsfalling away to twilight
My poppy wildflowers recklessly bloom An enthralling spread rushes past the ego and quickly covers all patches of hate and sin is a needless worry of the past.