Tones and sounds.
Organized in such a way they create music..

Songs heard through darkness and light..


Tangents and pathways..
Transparent clusters of thoughts and emotions...

Actions viewed through the porthole of the universe...


New stars and galaxies..
And the full dreams of undisturbed sleep..

Galactic access to infinite wonders..

Eyes open and mind set.
I ask myself. " Which is the dream?"

I'm blinded by your kindness.
Science doesn't do it for me.
I know that you know God,
by the way you treat
your fellow man.
Baby, you're a Saint.

Sun melted to pink, but Sky is still BLUE...
Not everything turns GOLDEN before the end
Only the HORIZON is colourful,
Lemme see...
Yeah, and for a long time sky is gonna be blue

“where summer’s bronzes dull and sink”

the trees are like
wet coat hangers,
holding up the leaves,

my cat is frosty like
an october morn,
sleeping on the sill,

everything is dripping
like a wet pair of
jeans taken out of the wash,

the sky wears its greys
of cloud, dim and dramatic
it opens summer eyes.

The coolness of being hot...😎😏
The goodness of being bad...😏🙄
The injustice of justice...😓⚖️
The independence of slavery...😣😮‍💨
The weakness of power...☹️😲
The savagery of civilization...😶😌
The subjections of rule of law...😭🤣
The plays of politics...😁🫣
The inactivity of PVCs...💸😌
Believe me...
I didn't say anything...😶📢

the forests of sun
lift their branches to the sky -
a stone fountain's tears.

magic depends upon believing

and in the dingy hotel room
the ***** in a red dress
the poet and the pen

*** without love

manuscripts that no publisher will read

she removes her earrings
puts them on the bible
on the night stand

and he throws her down
on the ink stained mattress like
a bouquet of dead roses

he beats her

tenderness
is the old woman
in the alley
covering herself with garbage
to keep warm

tenderness is the wolf and the lamb

he rips off her red dress
and he climbs up the mountain
through the ice and snow

tenderness is the wolf kissing the lamb

but
if we can find
magic
between warm thighs
that lock us in
tightly
tenderly
like our mother's arms
keeping us from death
if we can laugh
walking along that thin wire
where shadow and life marry
where the lions wait
in the witchwood of our dreams
where angels sing and dogs howl
if we can smile
at children playing  
and sometimes cry,
if we feel the warmth
from someone elses hand

then I say.

pump.

deep and fast
between empty eyes
that can hold
no wonder any longer,
climb up through the
ice and snow
and never be found,
and when you get to the top
of that mountain
keep climbing

magic depends upon believing