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She was all starry-eye blitzed
  which was one helluva party
'til a lit moon crashed her high,
    hungover indifferent
             clouded sky falling -
      tripping earth's cruel stratosphere
What can I say, it was Friday night. :)
At one moment in time
  she was poetry in motion,
'til she pirouetted herself
  unto dusty shelves
midst old clouded rhymes
   & recollected love notes
yet, there were echoes
  glistening 'tween strands
   of web's interlacing design,
meshing her finessed
  past within gossamer's
complex entanglements
  amid labyrinths of
    ancient symphonies
she dances, still ~
  silently in her head
flirting with destiny
       albeit, not as grand
I loved you 'tween the rushes of love
          and downpours of ecstasy,
    midst windswept rapture for the ages,
'til the storm ravaged our destiny
    left behind crumpled passages in its wake
still, I hold those love letters to my breast
  whence those dreams of passion
       wake amid dormant slumber
Sapphire currents
          engulf consciousness  
      'neath waves of
   ancient sunken treasure,
delving neath oceans
       cobalt manifests,
   lost riches of bygone eras
   destined to respectfully
        resurface its significance,
     midst new horizons' creations
           as clarity's power deeply inhales
                the depths of salty sea's tumult
Like the alarming abandon
          & disarray of Jackson Pollack,
    equally beguiling disciplined
       skills in the classical baroque
         airs of Antonio Vivaldi,
   midst the wonderment and
          wanderlust of a child,
      I'm awe inspired, unfurled betwixt
          your captivating demeanor
You know who you are...
Your garden was lush
   with poetic wildflowers
yet, darkness swayed its spirit
    'neath teeming salt tear hazes,
  tried to enrich the soil but
    ground cover was defensive,
hardened by winters' of
   contrary disconnectedness
For a good friend's special day...
---

poetry. folded into my back
pocket dark garnet pages are
left frayed and friable like
leaves on the bottom
of a teacup

poetry. stancion of
formed glass emptied of
its torch by breakage
each shard a grain
of obsidian
sand

poetry. lamp of a great
beast structure struggling to
find its way through the labyrinth
Minotaur myths blackness
camera obscura to a feast of souls
who's meat is dusty tomes
skeletons in tombs
choking on their crusts of
parchment owls

poetry. oil of anointing
for to wrap the Christian
alive as he burns in
the garden of
Caligula

i am poetry. all of these
am i. a paper soul clipped
from an origami bird's wing
frayed like a homemade
leaf but never

*empty
Thanks to Nat Lipstadt
and Shaunna Harper
for the inspiration
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