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 Jul 18 Pagan Paul
Crow
Armada
 Jul 18 Pagan Paul
Crow
fleeing beyond the horizon
a retreating sun sets ablaze
the rigging of aerial galleons
vapor masted and cloudy hulled

running before the wind
with full sail aloft
they press in hot pursuit
their unobtainable quarry

the pale mountainous island of the moon
secure in her fortress
regards the fleet with haughty disdain
as they hurry past

endless blue waters of the sky
deepen towards black
and breakers
on the great reef of the Milky Way
come into view

the fleet softens
losing interest in the hopeless chase
the ships dissolve and stretch out thin
on the last gasp of the failing wind

day sweeps over the edge
of the diurnal shelf
passing from shallows of dusk
to the starlit deeps of night
"Heart sets up vibration echoing wordless intent, mind translates in symbols      the flight of our soul’s ascent ! "

Where does the wind blow through when the soul is having its drink?
Intent on learning, living, giving, receiving, how does it come to glow?  
If the stirring of THE soul IS God's way of conferring, let's sink
into the abysses of His love and sip from the fountain of His know!

Does ascension of the soul happen while on earth or does it begin up there?
Are we aiming to grow like wild weeds, between the cracks of a sidewalk?
If the waterwheel of life is being turned by an invisible hand from thin air,
then we must be Kenetic energy, just like the water that falls by the clock.

Oh how our lives glow when we choose to take one single step for mankind
Oh how our hearts grow wise as we choose to live through Avian connection
Where does the wind blow through each time we are being loving and kind?
If stirrings of the soul mean ascension then we better give it good direction !
cracked asphalt of the modern realm

and court jester Gus pushes a shopping cart
he borrowed from the A&P to collect

bottles and cans
for a pence, perhaps a schilling.

the alley cat he cared for was named Maggie
and Gus slept with Maggie
in a kind person's village cellar.

it was rumored that Sir Tommy R.
shot a flaming arrow
into Gus's wooden leg.

young knaves
called Gus a *** knowing he'd chase them,
wooden leg and all,
and he was swift.

some threw insults, some threw eggs.
the village was a ballroom
fit for lords
in search of a court jester.

Gus the ***. I saw him

i saw him limping through the rain.
my heart was thin.
I threw him apathy, feigned sadness.


his heart still glows in my sorrows garden.

nobile misfit. all Gus sought was a smile, bread,
and a kind word.
YOU
Such was the nature of your love –

you didn't even care

to say goodbye.
If you ever fall down,

think of yourself

as a waterfall.
I looked down at my belly and I only saw myself
a baby I was growing in a body that was hell
what little strength I had in me, I transferred it to you
July decided for me — I’d be mother, tried and true

I looked down at my belly when I felt you coming close
at which point my anatomy was telling me, “don’t go”
what little faith I had in me, I prayed it over you
July decided for me — that was what I had to do

I looked down at my belly when I birthed you into life
and found myself believing I could handle any strife
what little hope I had in me, I spread it far and wide
July decided for me — I’d be mother three more times
for my momma, for my siblings, and for me
used to be in wales, now all shropshire,
borders. a small town with plenty to do.

qubed gallery quoted poetry, refinely
drawn. one man left standing, my face
collected.

salt in abundance, ready for the pigs
head, he really was making brawn,
ear stuck from the saucepan, with
plans for brains on toast for tea.

i lost earth and heaven,
read greengage summer instead.

rummer godden.
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