i swear i know every single one
the familiar flush
the perfect press of weight
just enough to claim quietly
the list is long
written in lovely left lingo
only to share with you who know
know the nexus of never-Neverland
who comes to call and collect
that wilderness wind
who whinnies in whispers
tender time, no threats, breathless talk,
he asks in an almost too quiet to hear, can you?
telepathic touch too soon she takes two steps back, how can i?
terra firma the raindrops continued around and in between
reluctant revolution revealed contained a world within
he breathes in strong and assured not willing to relent
mute she breaks and turns cradling the backwards
oh how it howls here sweeping surely
speaking of his softened features melting mercy
rhythmic riot pulling push he stalks the still
the space between stayed and quiet
…….this is how it is sometimes. that place of unwilling willingness, torn yet soothed.
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sunday scribblings: revolution
curled quietly
she yearned if only we could
submerged he sought her
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magpie tales 111
photo: parke harrison study of next 1994
i have to speak in such a way
that only you would know
morning glow assembly
majestically proclaims
another fast forward
reminding me to yield
surrogate surrounding cantata
sorrow’s steady soothing steps
tomorrow’s turn tumbling foward
there’s not too many left
the wind flies constant
never stopping once
leaving more than less
dropping dreams design
settled comfortably
on the edge of a crackly leaf
the dew comforts
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we write poems: keepsakes like a breathe
rebecca’s stumblin toward ecstasy
photo: red_04, Zita B, flickr
standing still suggests
his heart quakes a quiver
attempting to capture one
slippery scent of security
slightly retrospect
he turns and smiles
a warm touch remote
signals the lock of his heart
walking towards a
world a way
closer yet he comes
his soft blue shirt shimmers
just as before
not hardly a change
he now walks
soothingly slower
he bends his frame
encompasses my life
we start all over again
Piece of Pie ala Mode 