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He flew,
far from the plumed flock,
above the vast stretch of sands,
over crags and boulders.
flew into forlorn uncharted lands,
into the lure of the unknown,
searching for a tree to perch.
a temporary haven in encircling fetters,
a home away from home.
seeking comfort where none exists.

Saw the twilight nibbling at,
the blazing brightness,
from the sinking sun.
an orb of orange red.
a tad too naughty to tame,
playing out its remaining moments.

Nowhere within eyeshot,
a crown of supine leafy green,
propped firm on poles of brown,
shooting out into the darkened sky.
nor the whirr of nocturnal moths,
leaving the hide of leprous barks.

Like a kite at the beck of winds,
slipped out from the controlling grip,
with the string hanging loosely down,
he swayed and tossed in boundless blue.
below lay the abysmal depths,
and sand dunes forming cancerous lumps.


The sun that sank into roaring depths,
left not even a glint of light,
unable to hold on to a willed direction,
and passing through the Stygian sky,
he knew his body growing heavy,
felt the ache in every limb,
and the wings, losing their power to soar
x x x x x x

The descent was far too abrupt,
rudderless and reeling,
he dropped down,
like a missile, blasted out,
and none heard the fierce thud!
 Mar 2018 harlon rivers
Duzy
Noose
 Mar 2018 harlon rivers
Duzy
No one can know your pain
Not nearly as well as yourself
But the rope won't take it away
It just gives it to someone else
 Mar 2018 harlon rivers
r
I made you of breath
of shadows and sunbeams
of boundlessness
of folding out and in like wings
of fallings and risings
from the gravity of things
I am your leaves without
limbs or leaving
I am the circles and spirals
your body carves from air
your leaps toward heaven
when you most love the earth
I was before you and will be
after you, I am the center
and the circumference
I am within and without you
And I am your comforter
when the cold winds come in
I am the point on the line
I am brief and desirable
I eat oranges and watch
the Northward flight of geese
my being roars like oceans
I rock myself in the cradle
of self doubt and other emotions
I sometimes let take control
I rock the world like a baby
I kiss the air like my lover
here and here and there
I embrace you, World
I am your second Moon
that rose from the South
I am your eyes, your mouth
your star, your tree
and something else
I am sand, river, feather,
grass, moth, l am forever
yet lost and not found
and I am something else
and I always will be
something to someone else.
 Mar 2018 harlon rivers
r
When I was thirteen
and still seeing daylight
between my ****** feet
I went to spend the night
with my best friend;
we watched Gunsmoke
on the TV and raided
the refrigerator;
I remember his sister
coming home later
and leaving a crack
in her door and taking
off her clothes before
turning the radio
of my childhood on
leaving it playing
all the hot night long
and I sill hum every one
of those sweet songs.
Laid Bare – Winning battles or losing wars?

The internal struggle
Between –
I am worth while
And utter despair

Wondering what is the point of …
Well, of me
Feeling life’s passion one day
Death’s embrace the next
Feeling the tether between
The two stretched
To the point of no return
Wondering where I’ll be when it snaps
In passion’s bed
Or death’s pit

Today, a gentle breeze
Caresses me
And life’s light shimmers before me

If only…
If only this inner struggle would end

Kelly Rose
© March 7, 2018

From the madness of my soul
On the stiff twig up there
Hunches a wet black rook
Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain.
I do not expect a miracle
Or an accident

To set the sight on fire
In my eye, nor seek
Any more in the desultory weather some design,
But let spotted leaves fall as they fall,
Without ceremony, or portent.

Although, I admit, I desire,
Occasionally, some backtalk
From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain:
A certain minor light may still
Lean incandescent

Out of kitchen table or chair
As if a celestial burning took
Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then --
Thus hallowing an interval
Otherwise inconsequent

By bestowing largesse, honor,
One might say love. At any rate, I now walk
Wary (for it could happen
Even in this dull, ruinous landscape); skeptical,
Yet politic; ignorant

Of whatever angel may choose to flare
Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook
Ordering its black feathers can so shine
As to seize my senses, haul
My eyelids up, and grant

A brief respite from fear
Of total neutrality. With luck,
Trekking stubborn through this season
Of fatigue, I shall
Patch together a content

Of sorts. Miracles occur,
If you care to call those spasmodic
Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again,
The long wait for the angel,
For that rare, random descent.
 Mar 2018 harlon rivers
wordvango
Still there your essence is
On the pillows between
The sheets. Remains as a shadow
On the air on the mantle.
In a bottle more gone
Than here .

Left in the bathroom
On the shelf a specter
A ghost. The senses spiced
Bringing roses again
Once more nearer
Yet so far
Out of reach.

I wake clutching and grasping
At effervescent aromas .
I swear you are still
Near. As I make
Coffee become
Reality, again.
 Mar 2018 harlon rivers
wordvango
When it comes before you're ready for the novel to be over
And you weep days weeks on
end because the characters you've learned to know took into your soul pretended or saw were so real then after five six hundred single-spaced pages don't go on anymore you lost Frodo scout or Holly lost your reality then go into withdrawals
Like a habitual offender
Once I finish a book like that I sit
And ponder God how I'd like to be able to write a novel
That could make
People feel awfully ******* lost
And depressed when it's
Over.
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