Tuesday, April 5, 2016


Eloquence, finding its way back again
Applying the ardor needed to flex kinder, sweeter muscles
Than the dismay and gore of recent weeks.
The room to dream has budged
Heard, from a distance, that vibrating tenor of choice
Verbatim, words in the ether flow back, and in candor - we love.

Time does not stand still for love, or rather it does
It holds its place and grows, and even the minutiae glows true.
We are woven in to the tune of all we chant
Together; abroad, continent..sky... and the sea.
Consummate to the memories of all we have 'supposed'.
Existence, can it be paralleled?

If yes, so what.. if no... who cares?
There is uniformity in the fluidity of even the unpredictable
And if it doesn't make sense, then let it.
Let it because... love is also madness.
What is meant to be understood finds its way into the grooves of grey matter
What is meant to remain an enigma, must.

Intuitive lure is the heroin of lovers
Pumping each other full by needle, song, and smoke
Inhaling the galactic notion that eventually, the raw needs of night
Will land gracefully onto the laps that have done their time
Laboring in the languishing heat of all that desire can 'suppose'
And yes.. yes.. a thousand times Yes, to that moment, I am open...

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