ABOUT POETRY, ART, AND LIFE
Nothing exists that wasn’t here before.
Your fridge holds a trace of dinosaur;
your hair contains Andromeda’s glitter.
In the void of a moonless night
I search for life‘s essence…
She clutched the last trinkets of a life three-quarters lived
So greedy, corrupt,
unscrupulous, abrupt.
…and sweeps away the winded stories…
It is time to end
the thought of women
as bodies draped too much or too little…
…and the blossoms and flowers
bear hope for my bones.
I can hear into the oceanand see through the yearsI can paint with my voiceand sing with my handsI can feel in abundanceand be stingy in mind I can play
Within our genes , a family history itches from centuries below.
& I felt the roots of our family tree hugging me gently…
I have nothing more to offer than…
But we hurt
/We hurt
/We hurt…
She looked up into the clouds
Asking for continuity…
The snow that floated down on the years left memory puddles dried in the sun…
At dawn she stood in front of the door, steaming cup inside of her hands, she noticed a star in the eastern sky. It was dancing brightly towards the earth,
(for my mother who would have turned 85 today) Betwixt the primal automn air I stroll along on worn out fields; I look for her in glowing leaves that tumble
Little petal’s white on the grass They have been thrown – simply to pass Noble peacock’s call in the grove They have been reared – only to rove Tender lamb’s
The fox retreats to shadow’s fold, beneath the moonlit cherry tree.
Life folds itself in years,
A young boy, an old man.
Time passes
in a whirlwind cough.
It’s about the endless horizon
that the birds carry on their wings
…it carries with it my yearning for a life far beyond.
… I would stuff rainbows in a duffle bag…
…and I can feel the eagle scanning the land on a new day
wondering why people have chosen life on earth
She lightly lifted her lids, scanning the horizon for a past that had been swallowed by the timeless ocean.
…her wisdom written in a pondering gaze…
…People piled on top of each other…
There are these mornings when your legs have been covering up,and up……the fragility of both our hips and bones,crackling slowly… Desire is a beast on its own.
Summer is sparkling
on baby blue water.
Her mind swirled around in circles, trapped in an ephemeral skull. Outside, the rain soaked the crackled ground. A suffocating haze lay above the horizon. No escape, not even to nature.
…Infinity trickling down their spine…
Are we lonesome…
If I could freeze
the snow in midair…
Beauty versus beast
…phrases I planted out
of blue
they never melt those days
of ice
Throw that syrup up the wall
Nothing sweet! Not at all.
The fields are shred to open wounds,
chopped to cost-effective chunks.
I, who had been running from my years…
No haze remains…if…
…they even went and sold their proper shadow, I have been told.
… I long for an Angel to help us through
Be the sun…
“Press on, press on!”, a wind gust was urging, “life lies before you and regret’s left behind”.
The angels are flying low today, Looking for life to begin, Life to end…
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ABOUT POETRY, ART, AND LIFE
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