Poetry is a solitary act. Silent charcoal against an equally silent slate And yet, Poetry connects the minds and hearts of the world Beating in time Feeling the words As their own
Butterflies live
for 30 days
40 days if they're lucky
And I wonder
How do they feel time?
Do they feel a year
In one of our days?
Birthdays, holidays, friendship and laughter
What is that worth to butterflies?
What is that worth in the absence of time
His dreams were clouded in sparks of glitter
That bounced light, light, light
'cross the prisms of his mind:
Thunder in his mouth, stubborn in his eye
With tousled raven locks
Too young to drive
Ego took the reins, and
Free Rein took the horses.
The Sun slipping, spinning, stumbling
Startling the Son of the Sun-God
The World Heaved
Great pregnant sighs
And then. Began burning
in the light of his demise
Chastity drapes a rainbow robe across Her shoulders
to make wings unfettered
She bares them to the world.
with Full eyes
for caressing
with Full lips
for giving
for receiving (when another asks)
Morsels of sacrificed love
Chastity. Redefined
We do not live in time
But, rather, in memories
We bounce from memory to memory
Unbounded except for
Time
Not for the body
But for the soul
The release, the flight, leaping from reality
Escaping from the pain
As the pain feeds my soul
Every muscle screams in unison
in-in-out-out
in-in-out-out
Just keep breathing
FIGHT
drowning everything in its own waterfall
Green green grass gently grazing
my shoulders
my back
the sides of my calves
Everything sunk in a green grass-angel
as we chat
heads against bellies
ideas mingling with ideas
watching the stars.
Two tiny dots
watching two tiny dots
in the rich volume of nothingness.
Separated by so many dimensions of time and space.
And yet completely connected.