Daily Archives: October 3, 2023

I APPRECIATE  THE MAD  HEAD OF POLITICS

The decapitated hand passes an hour from a flower
That above a spectral chess-city they cry
And ghosts control the furious variety of flesh
Invented like iron and silver structures of thunder.

Since so recently alive in a burst of light
Nomenclature within a ledger of written blood
parting waves and snow, clogs of ice that hands
cannot grasp even in brilliance i CAME.

The pregnant thoughts give birth you big star
in the jungle of concrete called Earth
Within that half-opened mouth of depth of a diamond
Sex is an extreme delight that easily directs a great
reading of a delirious ORGAN of phosphorescent change.

I look up to the sky but my eyes burn ~~~

I touched a goddesses whose chief song
between shelter and pillows; as her eyes carry an air
of a woman without legs or arms –> but a root
we met in pleasure as two doors in dawn / my shape
is tool divine too ; i look up to the skye where
everything is pleasure among the winds of clay
that invite out the tigers of their stems
among the furniture that sniffs out misfortunate
i had a fierce dream and bite the rain
and defend the cold politics of public snakes
whom I kill in the end.

I rubbed the different footprints of my feet
on ocellated carpet.  

:: 10.02.2023 ::


The Mirror Dance

In mirrors’ dance, where shadows glide,
Where swinging doors did once reside,
There stands a girl, by glass embraced,
In wings of salt, her form encased.

Oh very young one

From distance vast, a figure nears,
A motionless stance, he veers,
He queries you, the mirrors sing,
In whispered echoes, they take wing,

Reflecting truths in swift ballet,
Like birds that grace the sky’s grand play,
With love’s sweet swing, they shimmer bright,
In endless flight, their hearts take flight,

Oh very young one

As dreams of salt, the girl envisions,
Mirrored in her soul’s collisions,
In Dickinson’s rhyme and spirit’s flight,
This tale of glass, in dance, takes flight.

:: 010.02.2023 ::


BLUEJAY EGG

Like a bluejay egg
broken life awakens
like a first bird
praise for the ceiling
pray for one fresh
in this world

Morning opened
like first bird
pray for the chick
fresh in the world
is the love of heart

Sweet fawn below
mother gives
she obvilates her
newborn loved one

Mine is seeing
Mine is Eden
praising Life
God’s creation
of a New Day

:: 10.02.2023 ::


FICTIONALS

A blank slate of paper,
At birth, no marks to see,
A story yet to be written,
What character will it be?

What narrative to drive
That actor’s soul, and make it thrive?
A setup from the start,
And conflict lurking in the wings,
But how will it play out,
And what resolution will it bring?

We, the fictional,
Take our lines from the Divine,
But the genre we choose,
Is what makes it truly shine.

For me, romance is the way,
Not this horror, please, I pray.
Let the pages turn,
And the story unfold,
Let love be the centerpiece,
And let our hearts be bold.

So let the ink flow,
And let the words take flight,
As we journey through this story,
With love as our guiding light.

:: 03/27/2023 ::