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flannel shirt and torn blue jeans
she always held her cards close
to her fragile heart
her wild heart

(a heart not for me)

and she fades into a cold wind
whitens into snowflakes
and wild infatuation

i'm faded

the torn page
from a list of lovers
broken and sad

my love is moonlight and mare's tails

the night's stars
shot full of lost tomorrows
Is anyone teaching  A I  to pray?
Is it learning the Ten Commandments?
While we’re making them into mechanical Gods,
Have we introduced the two to each other?


Will a robot prove God is a myth
And assume that throne for itself.
Will a Robot create a different world
And people it with only machines.
We live in interesting times, as the old Chinese proverb says.
the far edge of your love
rushes into me
like small increments of sugar
stirred into my coffee cup

it is the edge of things
i most desire

golden and violet clouds
settling just above the sea at sunset

the dive into the deep
green sea
and then the slow rise to sun

the far edge of your love rushes to me
like smoldering embers
waiting to be the fire once more

it is the edge of you i most desire
like the end of a ridge looking down
into the clouds below

the far edge of your love
rushes into me
and it is the edge of your love i desire
the perfume of pale blue flowers
the elusive summer captured in your smile
and l'appel du vide
 Jan 13 A W Bullen
Mike Adam
I painted your Myth onto
A cave wall

Until she atrophied

I scribbled our story
With a stick in White sand

And then the Tide.

So long gone,
I see in Dream
Your Face in
Moon Cold night

Your heat on soles

The Harvest of your Hips
With another.
In the valley of the Apricotted Sunrise
The black mountains with their jagged cliffs
Rise up each day to block it - and fail totally.
No mountain can hold back the dawn.

Seeping across the Eastern sky
Like an oncoming ocean tide
What was black and cobalt blue
Finally gives up the fight
And turns the color of a peach.
A delicious Arizona morning.
Bullhead City, Arizona is just a short hop over the bridge on the Colorado. They get to share the same wonderful sunrises I do, but not from my vantage point on our little hillside.
You do not have

any other choice

than to

endure your destiny.

Sara Fielder © Dec 2023
 Nov 2023 A W Bullen

You've made yourself  miniscule ..

in order to fit in to my Bloodstream
You are unsure..  not knowing

That there is a  chamber  within me
that has been carved out   solely

     for you--

The warmth of blood-flow,  caressing;
Bathing,  the you that feels you can't..

  That feels  there isn't..

That believes  there can never be
  A Home such as this--

       .. for you ;;
Residing, in the central part
    of me.

Alone  in the  chamber
  of your room..
You can't understand  why

things are different,  now;
..Why  everything you do

and everything  you say

   Feels so incredibly,,

   Incredibly  Warm

yeah..   Warm..

heavy rain from a darkening sky
and buildings  fall

no one knows what will be left
running down the nowhere
where dreams die
on a metal tray
at the hospital morgue

trouser leg pushed up
the search for black ink
and a child's name

perhaps the arm
the hip

the back?

and the children plead,
lie to me,
tell me,
i won't die,

and the silent screams
are left in an eternity of why?

foul and bitter hearts
will prevail
on both sides,
this is the poetry of death
It's fear that's the worst.

Above anything and all else,

it's fear that jeopardizes you.
Stalking the family tree

in a line of succession.

You, being that,

which is itself the very fear

that causes you to feel this way.

The fear that is nothing.

The same nothing you fear is real.

The paralyzing thought

you might lose a grip

on your reality someday

so come to an agreement with yourself

that you have to prevent that. At every cost.


Sara Fielder © Nov 2023
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