The city, alive
feel
the beat of its
pulsing heart
in your hands
inhale
the air it breathes;
it heaves
abandoned desires
melancholy sighs

immerse
yourself into its
hollowed alleyways
concealed by
shadows of
wandering footsteps
trace
crevices of
every brick
a canvas for
misguided souls
who live for
art and cigarettes.

The city, alive
deceit lies
in calculative eyes
designed to
lure you in
with every blink.

There was a man of pilgrim's might
Whose feet would hound with real respite
His head hung low, but thoughts gave flight
To smiles he flashed out through the night

And on he came to seeped well
And burned with petal thirsting smell
He cupped his hand to pool to tell
Of washed brows in walking hell

And then he saw a girl with hair
Of yellowest sunlight's bounty share
And told his heart its meal is there
The meadow grasseed blew nowhere

She cooled his brow with gentle hand
She ushered back the gourd's demand
And though the dirt gave way to land
No borders had her goodness banned

He woke beneath the willow tree
In cradle of arms' ecstasy
And she joined him to join the free
With daffodils afore their glee

Yet still they walk, but tell me this,
What is the road, but wartime bliss?
What is the sea without the hiss
Of beauty's scent and midnight's kiss?

And we dipped in the pool
Slowly, rolling, wholly,
The frozen heat fell like icicles
Smoke hugging our bodies

And we shivered
Jagged, razor, haggared,
But the cold went
And my mouth, open, pulled

The pain may have gone
Or not, maybe, matters not
But we froze together
Feeling space and liberation

Our bodies shook
Our minds, spoke, unwind,
Knowing beyond the cold
There was only mystery.