onus of science, or dream, to all explain;
the inexplicable remains dismissed:
being here or there: exactly arranged
and no one yearns to know of nothingness
between the emptiness of meanings each
with labeled names, boxes tightly-packed--
towers darkly lined, well beyond the reach
of but a few, lost, scattered minds...
xe shouted through hir lungs a greener hue
that we could live beyond the concrete grey
die in love despite our evil ignorance,
our rainbow cutouts crying for the sun
  --posthumous teleologies begun
  in kinder dreamers, earthly songs enhanced.

Your heart - all knowing, that finds me
blooming, a lotus flower unfurling
sepals and petals, morning yellow
of golden birds, gilded meadows
of grasses green, your wisdom eyes
of flashing fields that shine
we are infinitely interwoven by
the sacred that is unspoken
by all that is divine.

Lady in a gray dress
calling this a wintry mix

A coastal low with rain and sleet

I reckon so, but it sure seems
like the winter blues to me.

Discovered a new
"poet", Diksha Patel, a
master plagiarist.