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Linaji Nov 2011
Today could be the day
first bitten

spring curls beneath my hopeful brow
blackest dirt sings richness
alarmed with
promised growth

inside out openings
loves embracing
rows upon rows
peerless shining truths
fed on black water
planted without doubt
my ancestor
forgiveness seeds

Today could be the day
Alice’s rabbit hole found


ant energy
marching ...

see yonder the finish line?

My feet crippled
******* to old stories
fathomed deep with slots
for copper pennies
outdated and futile

slathered in history
are cheap resigned actions
day after day
groundhog sing songs
each morning
eyes dry with snake cures
seeing my other side of the bed
missing out
slide rule elements of now
of what could be

Today could be the day
cherub heart
Pink with
alive with
bringing forth

both sides
into action

I lay here supple
feeling the cure



Each morning I wake up with this mantra.
Each morning I believe that all my desires
for this better version of me will come true,
It is my practice
I do it each day.
I smile for one minute or more in bed I lay
I say:
Today could be the day
I get all my dreams come true,
What is stopping me
but me?
I sigh and I hold myself dear.
I ask to believe.
Linaji Nov 2011
It feels fitting today to wonder
the docks are full of slumber
sails are resting on boats that keep
waiting to engage once more



Linaji Nov 2011
holding back appreciation
from old stories

that don't apply

today is ripe with appreciation
Linaji Nov 2011
It was brutal and visceral


When allowed to breath


the metered tempo

Pages of subtleties noted...
horse whipped fantasies
ques in  fatal revelations
lovers shouting out
what they truly mean!

Dusk to dust, vanished with one
stroke of delicious body intelligence
savored in love's spring
this birthing again brings

ahead of me, all that poignant mystery.

I ******* my day like an ummm-worked canvas

Glasses and wrinkles

Some say twinkles under the eyes

intuitively sneaking for a ‘once again surprise’

(Always waiting… energy like this never dies)

Linaji 2011
Linaji Nov 2011
Moments that show themselves
through the joy of living life

Linaji 2011
Linaji Nov 2011
Born with it
no death
can't get away from it
Linaji Nov 2011
He wears lots of light blue and close to gray
so young I wonder where does he come by
such tender knowledge with King Kong depth
I fantasize;

Here I am in his world
and my hands are on his shoulders as he writes
Stolen knowing
(must be lifetimes before, how could it be otherwise?)
I see the mist that circulates and falls like dust
dancing round the light
filling up the room we share
and I take the temperature from his body
as he makes love to me where inside his mind
already brewing
a becoming
of a thousand different ways to express
his heady stroke of my skin and darling wet flower

Books spewed (so many) about
are dog eared
all the greats are here
and a few I must purchase oneday

He is contained and unsure just because he is
but his heart beats like a grand scale of octave notes
who’s perfection between pitch
sirens those who want to feel his world
(like I do)

Lounged and laid back, surprising shapes of figs appear
In this… my own version of the best lover for me

Figs, pear shaped and small and dark purple
All ripe with my desire

I love his smile

It’s mine in this scenario
the parting of his mouth is like kings table
endless like his words; delectable, pungent, foreboding
far reaching
Sometimes un-intelligible for a less than writer like me.

But that’s why I wrote this,
It’s still delicious to find power in flesh and word.
I’ve simply fallen.

Linaji 2011
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