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TSGarrettPoems
I caught the kiss of the weekend throwing my paper plane into April’s surreal refuge philosophizing from a tattered hammock stitched of rainbow legs let sway pendent toes feather touch dusting lapping as brush strokes tickling blades of tender Fescue where unruly plants begin to heave haloed vines at the Sun tongue jutting from pucker sprouting at lip’s edge swift nimble fingers cavorting under cumulonimbus explosions origami romance slouched geometric in the backyard letting the symmetry of the mind crease the leisure of the day into colored paper all of those delicate planes all of my tiny moods each an intelligence spanning the spectrum fashioned the moth to the flame then unfurled came the Buzz The Sprinter, The Stable a Sea Glider in eight folds the Hunting Flight of epic distance then acrobatics of the Royal Wing psychedelic parchment for The UFO 100% bond paper persisted for the Eagle Eye and White Dove enraptured in the moment my mind came to insight before the wind up and the pitch before she can split the winds I must know the sinews intimately before she may bathe her formation in the sky spread wings and dance the distance I must delve to atomic intricacies search further like an arrow to the soul of her dynamic watch her parallels unfold between Earth-measured aspects and the indispensable prism of her goddess shape my hands began to weave stories in foreign tongues melodies I’ve never had the voice to sing knuckles Mamboing sign language in rhythms the Universe has yet to show the dusk horizon eclipsed by stars and a paper wish blessed trajectory through the tussled hush that hugs the wilted pergola a well-folded fantasy hung up where the faded pinwheel spins it’s humming silver the season’s scents standing in a prayer circle amid ice cubes slumping collapsing in mason jars ales foaming in pint glasses hugging the shifting night air melting and mending with the metaphor of God and the cacophony of frogs these days finessed from fingertips that lock hands with shapes built by children hideaways kissed with dreamers lips folded secret love notes tucked between privacy fences there were said prayers upon those movements upon my lawn unfolded suburban satori hands bent to mudras giving imagination’s cursive voice and it went outward that day as such a breath, a meditation, a spiritual gesture
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Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 7:33 PM UTC
Throwing My Paper Plane
I caught the kiss of the weekend throwing my paper plane into April’s surreal refuge philosophizing from a tattered hammock stitched of rainbow legs let sway pendent toes feather touch dusting lapping as brush strokes tickling blades of tender Fescue where unruly plants begin to heave haloed vines at the Sun tongue jutting from pucker sprouting at lip’s edge swift nimble fingers cavorting under cumulonimbus explosions origami romance slouched geometric in the backyard letting the symmetry of the mind crease the leisure of the day into colored paper all of those delicate planes all of my tiny moods each an intelligence spanning the spectrum fashioned the moth to the flame then unfurled came the Buzz The Sprinter, The Stable a Sea Glider in eight folds the Hunting Flight of epic distance then acrobatics of the Royal Wing psychedelic parchment for The UFO 100% bond paper persisted for the Eagle Eye and White Dove enraptured in the moment my mind came to insight before the wind up and the pitch before she can split the winds I must know the sinews intimately before she may bathe her formation in the sky spread wings and dance the distance I must delve to atomic intricacies search further like an arrow to the soul of her dynamic watch her parallels unfold between Earth-measured aspects and the indispensable prism of her goddess shape my hands began to weave stories in foreign tongues melodies I’ve never had the voice to sing knuckles Mamboing sign language in rhythms the Universe has yet to show the dusk horizon eclipsed by stars and a paper wish blessed trajectory through the tussled hush that hugs the wilted pergola a well-folded fantasy hung up where the faded pinwheel spins it’s humming silver the season’s scents standing in a prayer circle amid ice cubes slumping collapsing in mason jars ales foaming in pint glasses hugging the shifting night air melting and mending with the metaphor of God and the cacophony of frogs these days finessed from fingertips that lock hands with shapes built by children hideaways kissed with dreamers lips folded secret love notes tucked between privacy fences there were said prayers upon those movements upon my lawn unfolded suburban satori hands bent to mudras giving imagination’s cursive voice and it went outward that day as such a breath, a meditation, a spiritual gesture
TSGarrett
Written by
TSGarrett
36/M
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 7:33 PM UTC
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