I bought a real nutcracker today.
A fine shiny black truly cool looking one!
Each crack  compliments to a dandy vintage lad's  imaginary home TV shopper Ad.
Saying‘It's guaranteed! Hundred percent of mechanosensory reception!’

I try to convince myself between time stretching
‘Yes or No’s and ‘Just use stones’
‘Come on you've deserved it!’
‘Why bother?’

You have been craving for each
Tried and tested any,
same as so many
even from a hard peach.

So why not!? Keep it! – as if a testimony, from tough to juicy mimicking fruity blending **** seduced by crunchy   mouth twisting *****.

Digested from special yearly events to monthly justifications then weekly to daily and surprisingly after dinner, before breakfast, as brunch or even a whole meal sometimes.

You gnaw like a small rodent layer by layer cute but so tight although he says that’s alright.

Dashing trunks as if a woodpecker,
Stealing home reserved only-for-the-pet’s crumbs and
Finally receiving next day’s well deserved belly cramps.

Come on you almost broke your teeth during your worldwide exploring different types of shell husking trip.

Feel blessed now one time for goddess’ sake that she winks and tweaks my lips while it creaks, festively announces your recent find that nuts you shall eat raw only - neither baked nor from a sinfully roasted ready packed plastic bag.

sometimes you are with me when I bike
right  in the middle of my eyes
you look through
as if recreating tides

sometimes you rise
stretch my tailbone
cross my neck all along
and silently whisper love and hate words

until you painfully adjust yourself towards a subtle opening
hidden under a golden crown

you tie us by secret subtle lines
as if  a puppet-pendulum
anchored to a bluish-green star
somewhere far away
as far as a single jump-rope swing
which I may call home sometime

is that why you send me signs
while I listen
like that lady bird today …
perfectly matching to the colors of an eloquent orange brown pottery
by which geishas serve

a ceremonial rice bowl the labels tell
exhibited behind glass only
my silhouette
reflected in dim lights
becomes a dance of invisibility  
hiding teardrops
along a museum corridor
covered with cherry blossoms

I ignore I say all the stupid signs
continue a play
with the luck bug
alight on my right side
observe its dotted natural  beauty
forget all there is around me
oh yes she knows me

I farewell her over a giant photograph of a well respected lady
make it  a living part of her brooch and dream away
if - maybe she’d be me
some lifetime ago
and you the lover
of our lingering sad story…

I live alone
in a room
my only friend
a rock plant.

A vase made of sighs,
converts **** non-audible AIs
to an unknown hymn,
replaces a half broken arm.

or was that a dream
during a harvest time?
or was that a gift
from a dear one?

I live alone
beside a window under skies
in a vase
made of colorful spots
my only friend
a girl
meditates in the room somewhere.

She, my sole flower
is a shape of a pink heart.
Her subtle transparent edge
glows my petal of gleam,
filters a beam,
and makes a rainbow kite.

My leaves, center her single dream,
carry a code of a parabolic green.

At dawn, she sings a love song,
invites all the blues of skies.
At dusk, she migrates them towards tones of nights.
A dot sinks within the brightests of stars
and finally
into my heart of hearts.

She collects then pure droplets
from a precipitating river - crossing unknown realms
in which of each
every season
a silver moon blossoms
to reflect a blue-green star,
she ultimately waits for:

‘That one!’ she shouts
deepening her pinks,
beating rapidly,
shaking my photosynthetic organs
‘There... we come from!
from the dancing, shapeshifter one!’


She, my only friend is a dreamer for none.
A dream of dreams about an unknown realm.
A girl with big words,
‘Someday’ she says ‘Someday,
when we be one as a timeless time but
I hold a key of Now from you for now
as much as I am of you,
Love will be a technology then for all - as is
then we be of love and One’.

‘but for now’ I say ‘for now’
‘at least, be my only one’
and I dream…
dream about a shape of the moment of that very someday
when she finally understands
and ‘yes that blessed someday’ I say,
and as usual nod and tune my stem.

you were fire in my dream
fire made of color
I say fire but don't know really
maybe you were color looking like fire
dancing in a space
changing shapes
perpetually
it looked like dancing to me
but it was more of a performing an unknown reality
I watched you from afar
A far as near as half of me
static and icy
sitting maybe
but also performing a duty
as if
hmmm
cannot tell what really
more than the awareness about our compulsory duality.

That dark patterned line
crossing straight the moon,
centering the frozen sphere-gate
of a misty autumn night-sky,
is not a cloud to sink down on only
and float subtly for a while
< so I can feel the aura of your skin mixing with the mine >
but it is also a five line staff
and tells me an aurally perceived absolute secret so that ,
through my hearing ,
you will
rise,
glide,
twirl
and cross
other lines,
tune my gaze
and engrave a mystic score beyond your shine,  
plant each of  ‘you’s,
note by note,
in ones, halves, fourths, eighths , sixteenths and ‘pi’s
in the heart of each
<beyond the clouds away from my reach>
twinkling star  

so that anyone that could look up with a heart,
<maybe on a clear night sky>
would see a commencing song-
singing the dance of an ever weaving light-story
visible to those eyes with a knowing only that
<the knowing about a wish is
a wish that shall eternally be kept a secret>
has the enlightening technology to recreate a reflecting galaxy
with an authentic memory
that expands infinitesimally
<which we in our terms would say it expands by love
but in truth would not really know how
unless the terms are lost and we have got no time except to  > - be now-
be now
be now with me now
and now and only now
be now and with me now
and only now and now

Would you come and meet me then?
there?  
but I don’t know where… just there?
wherever all these sky lookers are
and be one of them, again ?  as we did once– on a terrace
one summer night, we watched our own story under stars,  among crowds while I asked for your light and you kissed me awake for eternity and so
would you let me kiss you this time - one more time
just for the last time  and forget that eternity  eternally this time?

come on! put on your fancy pants!
you say, there's honey on my hands
or was that - was that …
your aaaaaaaaaasssssssssssss!?

crunching fallen leaves -  
looking for a guitar now.

oh no rush- no hurry
hush you the breeze
play a cool theme of color
leftover of summer
like an orange or green red  blue yellow and serene

walking on your side
with my fancy hat - glittery in the head
on a spacey -gorgeous roadside
under a fall's sunlight

oh looking for a  guitar now
that plays the tune of a magnolia tree

oh dream catch me - rays of the blossoming tree  
just for me, for me, for the flowerless me
cause I continue singing for you  
oh for you, for you, only for you.

but here it comes again
dim lights - before dusk or dawn
through the kitchen window,
as a shadowy side line
no, no, it’s not inviting the pasts ghosts for supper,
not so scary - not sorry- not to suffer,
not so moody anymore,
it’s gonna be fun! just fun!
we're gonna have pasta with broccoli
after chocolate and petting the *****

hey where are you hiding kitty!?!
come on out! - tune in to our song 
oh where are you
come on out now
Lolaaaaaaaaaaa
la la la laaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I am sitting here with you
sipping a cup of coffee alone
how interesting to save energy and space like that
using one body what used to be just mine.

how contemplative peaceful aware and full of wisdom we are  together
as I could be on my own before my fall
a fall -  a period  
equivalent to  intervals of states of innocence
after the fetal  and before the restored one.

communicative is the body in creative balance
walking on a line of  harmony
beyond a metropolitan valley
because it can afford derived fun
so to create surroundings by dance  
so to create matter.

speaking under the dimness of a warm bright yellow kitchen light
its morning with you now alone
I made a thyme bread for us not to eat if you don't want to but to awaken divination
the suggestion of taste by smell
the act of cooking
to trigger a required natural physical reaction
imagine.

I serve it beside the coffee as dry bread
maybe not for us but for the birds outside
as if it matters: the I -  the you or the birds
one sips - the other beaks
and the rays of universe weave

that's all about it I guess

this way we broadcast our mute to us- never heard by us - laughter  through a November mist towards a galaxy  where families live and can receive ours' as a synaesthesized pulse and can learn from - the way to become happy not like us but as a cause of ours'

missed Letters :
A  B  C  D    F  G  H  I  J  K    M
N    P  Q  R  S  T  U    W ­ X  Y  Z

correct Letters =
_ _ _ _