Forest inquires:

How do you decide, choose your design, find its guise,
give it a face, surrender to the poem's own
vanity,
        and choose the poem's alignment?


                                                  an­ answer forms:

this alignment idea,
you think it simple,
everybody understands
what your inquiry means

alignment -  the appropriate relative position

we live in relative position to each other, our poems too, for they are but written synapses of our close captioned interactions, seemingly random, but assuredly not, as we invest in ourselves, seeking the mysterious appropriate answer
                                                                ­                        from the Theory of Poetic Relativity

                                                   ­             i love your question;                              hold it to my nostrils,          
                                             ­             smell the coffee aroma wake up blast inherent;
                                                                ­      
 kiss its robust childlike cheeks for the simple   soulfulness essential arousal;
for you see sir you have found
the appropriate position that relates us, our mindful words;

                                 answer no good, wholly insufficient?
                                        perfect.
                          as i close this quick cooked to perfection laboratory solution, take note

                              
                            ­                        the earth has moved
                                our hearts have beaten a measly thousand times
                                    time and space have appropriated our prior
                                          
relativity

when you return years hence this poem's shape will perforce have moved. for words are weathered flux constant and yet inherently unchanged except for the part of us that changes with every re-reading  

and what was


**right before has left and the center has moved again

in the crevice between the sky
and the ocean
this is where my soul lay open
my body burnt away
from the sun's embrace
while gentle kisses from the waves
keep my mind at ease
and in a peaceful slumber
i'm reminded of the pain
i desperately try to keep in

"you're ok. we'll keep you safe. let go young child. wash your fears away"

here
i am loved.

Music inspires me
And I look outside
The silhouette of
Leafless trees
Against the dawn
And I think of anyone
Anyone, I know
Like life
I changed
For good, for bad
But I left you
Without reason, just
Fear of being faked at
And I wanted to
Tilt, to go back
But it was too late
And curse me
Your memories
Will be of that
All the older ones
Will evaporate
And when I'll leave
They'll ask
"Remember her?"
And you'd say
"An altered acquaintance
She was"
So I'm sorry
I hope you'll forgive me

A little light enters.
A little light reaches.
A little light is enough ,
Enough for my soul
Which is soaked in darkness.  

I scour the land ,
In search of this little light .
I find nought.
Point me in the right direction,
So that i may stop this aimless meandering .

I cry to the sky so that God or the gods
May hear my agony
And hopefully wring the darkness in my soul
Oh , how it hurts ,
Where is the light when you need it .

Sphynx-like they move,
lions in the dark,
where they watch her
through hungy coals set in gaunt faces,
licking their chops for her bones.

But she is a lion tamer,
with no more bones to spare the unfed worries yowling in her peripheral,
and a tinder spark now lives where the dark once crept
to keep their hunger at bay.