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 Apr 2023 Sean Winslow
Onoma
signature notes of alabaster--

cut, carve & curve their milk.

what models to no end--slid

over by zephyrs of arcadia.

whereon a dusk's peach planets

roll as internal organs.

a muse's strobe lights.

airborne fig leaves tantalizing

a goddess that steps from plinth

to pantheon.
 Jun 2021 Sean Winslow
Zywa
God is a nuisance:

He is constantly present –


but always sleeping.
“God onder de mensen” (“God among people”, 2021, Toon Tellegen)

Collection "Thinkles Lusionless"
.
In forgotten places
She made our bed,
Draped with golden
Sun and shade only,
Longing lovers name
As they stalk shyly, shines
Of trailings, low happinesses
That others delve seemingly
Deep and joyous always into
Graces left everlasting for them.

In forgotten places, of hurt,
We made our streaming supper.
By a bank that only salmon traverse,
Knowing with hazel branch and leaves
Buried round ancient moss of circle stones
This was our testament, the tame grasping
Of light as it flickers in a whirling of whim,
The hot breath which knows coping hope
Has no end in beginnings, the lancings
Of eyes as they tear into faint mystery,
Lamb white and bleeding, sacrificial
In the dawn, trained to never want.
 May 2016 Sean Winslow
ryn
Basslines
 May 2016 Sean Winslow
ryn
.

estrate the          
orc-                       opus           
ong•                                  of right        
     of s-                                            and wr-            
      gh power                                        ong•k-       ⚫️  
    tales throu-                                       eep me             
   tell me...                                           ground-      ⚫️
                                                 ­            ed throu-          
                                                ­         gh lyrics          
                                                     worded          
                                                strong•        
                                          embed  ­      
                                       solid b-        
                                 assline-        
    ­                   s that        
              guide        
      me a-          
lon-            
     g...                          
•                              


The soundtrack to life deserves the most wicked of baselines.
.
so what if we made coffins of the people we once were
And ran beside each other in another kind of world
Where everything is blooming, feeding life into our bones
untangling our minds and making perfect all we've known
I'd like to think we'd learn to see the sadness in the truth
And let the eyes of passion show us what we need to do
So rather than exist inside the shallowness of skin
We'd just as quickly settle into what we hold within
I'll give it up to weakness, every doubt that I once had
await a day that tarried but was always holding fast
what if?
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