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LJW Jun 2014
housed in the corner
i never see it change position,
its sensitivity to climate,
nuances of atmosphere,
as though i lived among subtle genius.
assuring the appropriateness of sleevelessness,
i recognize devotion.
by Lisa Winett  c.1996
LJW May 2014
This is where your life begins
on a trip across a narrow channel
to an island outpost where twelve
students wait for class to start.

Our days are new, just building
our towers to support many children,
fantasy race cars, sojourns in war zones
so we can snap monumental geographic moments
of hidden earthly marvels where the sun blazes
against hot red rocks and we show how strange
and otherworldly our home can be.  
Our days are new...

Hope arrives in bulk and all we create
in our imaginations is available for us to believe in.
God still smiles upon us, it is before we turn our back on him.
Our mothers, fathers, teachers, friends root for us to win...

Every door we open becomes an adventure where
the unknown and impossible might come true.
We can become movie stars if we walk into the right cafe
on the right day in LA.
Now is when anything can happen.  

We still have a chance to mingle with learned scholars
who continue to seek out the beginning of their lives.  
If we are lucky, a conversation might bear fruit,
feeding us with treasures of study these schooled giants have uncovered
giving us material to put in our books, sending us on a path
through time reading other men's minds.  

Our days still are fresh, we wake like young peach roses,
wrapped naked in crisp sheets, our first apartment littered
with wine, sketches, and our lover...after we return from the island.

Smoldering with lustful ambition, refining our looks,
this is where our life begins.
LJW May 2014
beyond the measure of any cure
sits my pleasure of sought after
dreams delighting in roaming with your
grace filled presence in city adventure
or sat at a table shedding quiet tears of adoration from afar.
LJW May 2014
bakers dozen  
on the horizon near the playa
where apocalyptic marauders skate,
following a verde raw fruit shake,
beneath fade red chakra shawls  
billowing from the desert winds.

a touch of gypsy, an ounce of saint
distant, unattainable, supremely created beings.

dusty weathered skins, they survive on magic,
gifted to them
alone.
LJW May 2014
too fast
I  ran to the
sun as I hurdled the
pits dug for young ladies too small
to dare.
LJW May 2014
till death
will find me still
wanting your surrender
wanting you to want me to lay
with you.
LJW May 2014
Ocean
bluing beneath
my hands brushing over
warm Caribbean bathing salts
at dusk.
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