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I have known that the sun can hear thunder
and how its brightness
can be unfathomable,
like my dreams.
Since the beginning of my pulse
I have been honored
with good days
that left me grateful
inside of the sweetness
never stifling.........
within all it means.

When midnight kisses the glass
that morning has already
tasted......
Like a thirsty spider
crying out........
for the rain.
All of my senses are
swept through
knowing, my words don't fall
on deaf ears......
or stand there,
all wasted.

No, you cannot know how I'm feeling
but that doesn't mean
our world's stopped spinning.
The sun.......
can still hear thunder
in all the ways you love me.
You lift me up
in the midst of a storm.
All my senses are swept through
my words stand in stillness
a storm's ending......
is love's beginning.
Copyright 2012 - Neva Flores - Changefulstorm
Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and
choose the sign of your day
The day’s divinity
First thing you see.
A vast radiant beach
in a cool jeweled moon
Couples naked race down by it’s quiet side
And we laugh like soft, mad children
Smug in the woolly cotton brains of infancy
The music and voices are all around us.
Choose, they croon, the Ancient Ones
The time has come again
Choose now, they croon,
Beneath the moon
Beside an ancient lake
Enter again the sweet forest
Enter the hot dream
Come with us
Everything is broken up and dances.
A degree above that happiness
That makes you want to
Squirm about, for-
What seems-

No
Apparent

Reason.
© 2011 Elephants & Coyotes
This is because
I will never be good at touching
And because
You will never be good with words
And because
With your beautiful mind
You might never even be able to understand this poem
And what I’m trying to tell you.

I am
Not
Trying to tell you that I love you
Or that I want to spend forever with you

Actually,
I’m perfectly fine
With falling asleep alone
In my oversized bed
And writing poetry at two in the morning
While you play a gig.

And actually,
I’m perfectly fine
With being the one who does all the planning
To make sure that we can work around
Your busy schedule.

What I am trying to tell you is
That no matter how many times I have to look at you funny
When you spout random trivia,
I am always proud
Of the things that you know.

What I’m trying to tell you is,
No matter what other people say,
I am always proud
When you tap drum solos
On my hand.

What I’m trying to tell you is
That I am entirely captivated
By you
And your beautiful mind.
Once, when my curls still tickled, only the tops of my ears,
Mum quietly ironed my daddy's pants - he ate his cold grits and eggs.

She thought I didn't see her see me watching the cat,
Claw at her leg - And so, I just asked,

"Why does déjà vu  only come too late, for me to know what I should do?"
She wrinkled her nose, instead of sayin' and,
Singed her spider-leg fingers.

--

So, I sat there.
Somewhat, unsure.

--

"Baby," she said, as she shook her head, "You shouldn't fret over things like that."
She continued her ironin' - the cat kept clawin',

--

And, I sat there.
Somewhat, unsure.

--

I asked my daddy earlier, yesterday, if he would work late, down at the office.
He began saying some words, but very few were heard,

My attention smelled -
So much -
Like grits.

I saw the wine bottle stolen and my cookies still frozen,
Yesterday,
But, in a way,
Soon after the airport.
Must be missing my savannah home, too much.

© 2011 Elephants & Coyotes
This little room
is in a house
in a quiet suburb
of a large city
and I know
there are many,
many little rooms
which are like this
and unlike this
all over.
It has yellow walls.
I am a student of Dharma
and all Dharmas are empty
so I am a student
of Dharma
with an altar at home
upstairs
and an altar at home
in the basement
so this house
has become
like a temple
that has
several smoking sections.
Free poem by Kongsaeng Chris Everson - 2010
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