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Derek DM Mar 2017
I don't ever see
the reasoning
behind your knee
or the beat you'll be
in reckoning
when you come to me

But bent in holy
parsoning
S wept in time
Along the trees
reasoning
but not in mind

Keep me here
Begging
Beckoning to be
in houses of the holy
longing
to be free
Derek DM Mar 2017
I can see through
The way you put it
In drab olive tones
Like sketches of people
Drawn in invisible ink
Where the page is the only color
And the lines are a haze
of forgotten notions
and history

Today lets make a line
Perhaps only in pencil
H8 with light strokes
And erasable mistakes
An outline of your heart
On rosy-rolled papers
Create soft perspectives
until the day
We draw in ink.
Derek DM Mar 2017
I sat in my morning chair
The newspaper in my hands
As my fingers creased the print
I saw no words or story
But instead wondered
What will become of us?
Derek DM Mar 2017
Hold on tightly
Then let go
A top spinning
Grateful pirouette
Above, in the sky
Til one toe lands
Unto the earth
Twirls into dust
A blurred joy
Of balanced brazenry
Unto ***** knees
And bloodied palms
Beckon downward
Until your hands
Pull the string again
Derek DM Mar 2017
Is there any thing that holds so dear
With the constant clucking in my ear?
In a coursing heat pumping through
Till fills my chest when I see you.

Nothing so much tho brave engendered
To gaze upon this curve so tender
Where the force of life and living grows
Behind thine eye and ears and nose

Supple sheet of melting wax caress
In covered stone beating now in excess
The moment and means of all my fill
Joined and released in a silken still.
Derek DM Feb 2017
In a moment of glaring dead ecstasy
The foothold edge wedged down
The world spun into oblivion
Awakened into creamy havoc
On graveled hands and knees
Bludgeoned crevasses
In a dusty cowl of contempt
Toes betray ****** bow
A rocky curtsy of know how
Shake and stand in disdain
Our own dignity stained
Blech!
Derek DM Feb 2017
Let there be just the air
The drift of suns and moons
Across arms and backs
Through lips and lungs
Down into souls opened
Within windy spaces carved
Caverns of certain depths
Shelves of vague sets
Assembling nothingness
Along lines of long eras
Only leading to the end.
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