As the ink grows a tad eager,
the heart beats a little faster.
To free the catch in my throat,
is a folly that I never could learn.
And this fire in my being that has my tongue...
forever could burn.

tapping on Heavens door
waiting with Angels
We sing another carol...

A seeker,
of infinite wonder
set out to
discover
the most incredible
treasure

those of immortal value
in all that they stand,
as time,
the greatest
conqueror
of all

gathered in a
sacred sack
these loving
gems she
stored

however her love
was the motive,
to capture
and share these
treasured gems
to save the others

though when she returned,
from atop the mountain,
no one recognized her
and no one,
would hear her treasure

a life dedicated,
and a life she gave
for pieces of information
that were stored
in the deepest of trenches,
but these she couldn't share,
for no one spoke the language,
the surface dwellers,
could not comprehend the depths

so she withdrew,
into an icy cave,
where she did find some warmth,
in weaving together these treasures
into a shining quilt
made of verse

frozen in time,
the word can be
keep on writing,
and don't be afraid,
to give it
your
life

because they will outlast you.

from East to West a pain without name, something inescapable, like the girdle of caskets, like a corpse. we struggle with what seems to be mostly an idea - the dimensions of the body, with the memory of the skin, with the history of contracting our bellies and puking our dreams. this world covered by layers, textiles, invisible armours, self-imposed absences. tears crushed by violence, by laughter, after all it was not that bad, they say. we carry so many tears that we are heavier than air, lighter than our tormentors, sillier than our dreams
crushed words, crushed voices, empty meanings for the unraveled selves. i write only a chronicle of this time devouring its fragments

Guardian Angel watches through nights
knowing each day dawning
brings all to new times

Guardian Angel knows by supplication
you know that they watch
and you are their special charge

Guardian Angels, bringers of love
even more so the more you fall
will never let you be alone.

In between the sal trees
glistens the river in October light
inviting in the rustling of leaves
to kiss her gently breaking ripples.

She hastes down the rocky *****
impatient as the river gets close
giggling in the dream when her toes
embrace the chill of the late autumn.

The catkins on the other side
swayed vigorously to be with her
spreading with the wind their pollens
in a mad desire to touch her skin.

This October morn she was carefree
floating amid hijal, fig and velvet apple trees
with winds from the river on her sail.

I only watched the fairytale.