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You will never be unloved by me. You are too well tangled in my soul.
Pinhole sunrise
Sodium lit
Murk and ambiguity sleep together
Down in the seabed

One moment of calm in a chaotic rift

These dark vessels
Of the fourth plateau
Scheme vicious pastimes
That live by night

Orphans of the smog
Attiré par le chaos
Soldiers of false beliefs
Progress the beauty of destruction

Their slogan:
"Making better mistakes with tomorrow"
It has the sound of a long goodbye
It lights the final flare
she was a flower in bloom
gracing the noon day sun
both golden, as one

a cardinal vision, to one
captivated by her sight
to spiral in vertigo and swoon

as beauty was singular in this
all indications would lead to a kiss
in endless harmony and bliss

forces beyond their control
possessed their love to unfold
in the fullness of life’s country road

stirred coffee and cream do swirl
as they danced to a yin and yang world
then one last kiss for his breathless girl


-cec
In the valley of the Apricotted Sunrise
The black mountains with their jagged cliffs
Rise up each day to block it - and fail totally.
No mountain can hold back the dawn.

Seeping across the Eastern sky
Like an oncoming ocean tide
What was black and cobalt blue
Finally gives up the fight
And turns the color of a peach.
A delicious Arizona morning.
        ljm
Bullhead City, Arizona is just a short hop over the bridge on the Colorado. They get to share the same wonderful sunrises I do, but not from my vantage point on our little hillside.
think i may like to travel to small places,
old and full of history. deep aged fabrics
stained with the words of time. to touch
Pradip marks the slow disappearance of faces in the market,
unknown yet familiar and thus important to the senses,
for our eyes crave continuity, comfort reassuring that time,
even time that robber par excellent, still provides some comfort
to our souls, in its own way, even the faces of strangers in familiar places are road markers, bookmarks, that even the known unknown offer a measure of solace, as we traverse the old familiar places
of daily life.

it must be remedied. some of you know that I make not idle promises,
that my promises to be there are effected, for I am affected by the
repair of the world in little, measurable manners, so the iCal calendar
modified with a Visit Pradip++, a new addition…

and on the way there
are few more exotic places where poetry grows that
will require some
layover visitations…

only time in its theiving secretive ways stands between me and
you denied grasping arms, taking the measure physical of a
beating heart
and river-wide smile,
maybe even I’ll practice with a trip to
remote foreign places, which they speak
the languages of poetry too,
Snake River, even Iowa!

olp/n.n.
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