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BEEZEE 5d
The baskets spill, the piles are high,
unfolded truths that will not lie.
A basement door is pressed and bound,
with secrets clothed but never found.

I sort the fabric, piece by piece,
for some bring pain, and some bring peace.
The child I was still leaves her mark,
a tender seam, a hidden spark.

The mother’s cold, the lineage torn,
old stains of those who came before.
Yet in my hands I choose what stays,
what must be washed, what I’ll erase.

Each folded shirt, each garment worn,
a burden shed, a self reborn.
And through this work I come to see:
not every thread belongs to me.
Apart of the dream series.
One where I encounter my aunts house, where laundry over flows. A door to the basement open and packed with laundry needing sorted, no way to descend down.
BEEZEE Aug 19
Sun-fire clasping moonlight,
a covenant older than breath,
where king and queen entwine
in the mandorla of becoming.

Here is no fracture—
but the furnace where opposites melt,
gold with silver, spirit with flesh,
shadow kissed into flame.

This is the marriage of eternity:
the holy wound made whole,
the cosmos circling within the heart,
the Self awakening,
whispering: I am all, and all is one.
BEEZEE Aug 17
I can feel you when I speak,
see your face in every wall—
like I know you’re there,
even when you’re not,
as the one I dream of.

Powder rooms with a flower stall,
you’re inside my head,
dancing back and forth.
Were you always here,
and only ever lost,
as the one I dream of?

Lover, no—
I can’t pretend
I’ve ever seen this horizon blue.
My heart tastes your scent,
feels the color of you,
in this dream
where you love me too.
  Aug 10 BEEZEE
sandra wyllie
through the wind in a warm
waltzing breeze. Wrapped in
velvet fur men fall in layers
like crimson autumn

leaves. Her chest rises
like a leopard in the Serengeti. Eyes
all over me like a panther in
the snow. I cannot see

them. They shoot out darting
me with the evergreen
glow. She's a lone cougar
ready to pounce. Swag in

her step, flirting in her
flounce. Her footprints are
larger than the moon, marking
men with her golden perfume.
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