ingrained beneath my leather skin
inside my soft heart-pillow,
and I’m two and forty-nine and seventy-three
in this one formidable body.
No yearning for constant reminders
of who I might be;
I’m over the moon for lack of extremes.
We’ll last forever.
a living piece of art
may require some sort of maintenance
the need to be covered with a sheet
to prevent the accumulation
I misread the signs again
not listening to the inner voice
I diversified and extended
and yet I ended
leaving others at a deficit
The whole universe sees
what conscious mind disbelieves;
that as the pain accumulates,
the teasing of
the greatest pleasure
arising from what you behold
Is in truth
love residing always in your mind’s eye’s
as a reflection
of God looking at you in the mirror
You helped them leap into hearts!
Lover of the beloveds
they all class this place
Making us seem evolved
We got to be lovely
I’ll play something…
they can hear in their DREAMS!
I talk to your mother all the time…
Don’t do anything to hurt yourself
My idealized dream mind
imagined she saw
or connected to the realms
on the inside
It was a marvelous bit of synchronicity
I enjoy being a silent sender of light.
I didn’t know how to do that when I was young
on grey days
when the isolation closed in
with low energy
and old papers
Piles of old newspapers
with crosswords and Ann Landers
black and white comics
I guess that my steps out of a book
were close enough
what we pretended
I don’t want to get to close to the old days
When I see someone doing ALL that
It amazes me how they look like Angels!