Its very nice here and nothing changes other than an occasional here or there I forget now who had whispered in my ear “out of place out of time” Well, now, where are we? Back to doing whatever I do in this timeless atmosphere only a word or two and we are now on the same page Late afternoon, early spring
Tag: blue book
Tears on Easter
Why so far from your path my little man? Rest your head in my bosom Lay your tears upon Mother Earth Take sustenance from my teat Be my lover for a time Time for your medical training Time to build roads and buildings and fascinating devices of engineering My, so busy Not too busy To dance and play guitar and sing with a gathering every evening In knowing celebration of harvested humanity Tasty food from the hearth Long discussions of politics and mirth One day your hairy legs will itch Your hooves tap and your tail twitch One evening youll silently fade back to me To coax budding women into the forest and sow boldness in them so generation after generation humans in wilderness and wilderness in humans
Spring at Dusk
I close my door on the descending darkness A smile gently clings to the afterglow of youths sun–soaked pageantry Lonely eyes take in their new surroundings tired limbs prepare to embrace the night The incessant call of a solitary nightingale sings so close to despair as innocent as a heartbeat
Beloved (Read by the Author)
One never expects love She always descends in such inappropriate places Soft, dulcet–smooth some kind, caramel–honey Pouring into my ears So low–down every murderous word tender I bike against the flow of traffic futilely thumbing for her to raise her voice cursing the onslaught of society
About Time for Rain
The first time I allowed myself to see beauty in every being was the first time the universe smiled upon me in the knowing smile of a woman I stopped planting my feet to steady my bike as she crossed the street the air applauding with a chorus of strings from a idle car’s stereo I gazed she pondered, puzzled then she saw and smiled knowing
Travel Advice
Avoid the travel agents hellish destination Thank God for the angels abundant journey
Stroking, Dancing
Flower strokes its petal Asks “Who am I?” The sky and the earth dance Roots feed petals petals feed roots
Gasp, Sigh
I cry, acknowledging each must face their pain as natural as the rain dripping leaf to branch to root drowsy, heavy, tip-tap (Gasp) touching my innermost part Heart-pleasure piercing through dissolving, corroding (ah: oo) wondrous (pain)
Nude with Arrow
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Release the Firefly in Your Hand as Gently as a Lotus Blossoms
Whatever you are would be good only let it be