1689

The look of thee, what is it like
Hast thou a hand or Foot
Or Mansion of Identity
And what is thy Pursuit?

Thy fellows are they realms or Themes
Hast thou Delight or Fear
Or Longing—and is that for us
Or values more severe?

Let change transfuse all other Traits
Enact all other Blame
But deign this least certificate—
That thou shalt be the same.

Lost on some horizon
juggling the everyday
I found a path, a road
winding to the distance
the separation of heart
and mind coming together
with each footstep I made.

Hinduism
       Is
the art of
     Living.

Art rests inside the vision of creativity
Art comes alive with that interpretation
Art is cultured from craft
Until a masterpiece has evolved

Jl 2016

mr death's blue eyed girl
night falls and she's in the bathroom
again with a pocket of pills and her will
to live faltering or shivering in the corner*

the vintage radio plays and she's
stuck in the sweltering heat alone
in the kitchen, hero left her the victim
and she's bending silver spoons with her mind

saying she knows what he's thinking
a psychic or an unbearable palm reader
and she's suddenly taking off again
perhaps some other guy will pick that will to live up

with his nimble fingers and lovely wrists
she was the victim, but she's feeling lifted
again into small fragile scopes of life