Who is this imagine
Starting back at me

Wide dark eyes
And a hidden disguise

The numb is sweet
And hard to beat

Keeps me coping while
My heart is kept hoping

Without the mask, hope is hanging by a thread
Sometimes I think I'm better off dead

If "hope is the thing with feathers"
My bird is not placed in my soul

We all try to drown the Demon
But sometimes the place to perch is full

Who is this imaging staring back at me
All things I never thought I'd be

Your set sky on fire
With A Phoenix feather
The sky would end
We would burn together

I can't do anything
But watch the sky at night
The fire was burning so much
Like day it is bright

You all would burn the sky
But i won't be doing the same
Confined in your pleasures
You got too close to the flame

The night would be burning
I will try to cover my eyes
Even the darkness would be afraid
If the sky fell, you all will die

I wanted to reach the heaven
And hear my sky fly
But my ears tremble
As i hear my lovely sky cry

I can feel sky is sad
I hear her every scream
This is the reality of humans
I couldn't have thought even in my dreams

Humans are bad
They smile watching sky in pain
I wish with all my heart
Their intention fail and comes so ferocious rain

A collaboration between Elisa Maria Argiro and SG Holter.*

Dear feather. You fell on my heart.
I keep you on my person now; pocket held;
An eternal companion.
As beautiful as you, I remind my
Thoughts to be.
I wake up as Buddha every day.                  
Peace is the corner stone of my breathing.

Dear Last Crescent Moon,
adorning Lord Shiva's brow,
smiling toward Morning Star
enjoying her sweet presence
in clearest predawn light.
She smiles too, drifting into feathery sleep.

Birdless flight, unclenched, un-
Clung to.
With this dew drop in my palm
I need no ocean to swim in.
How can Life's castle, with its wars and
Tragedies, hide within its
Towers of                                                          
Nois­e such quiet chambers?
Paper sails, bamboo, emerald waters.
Single feathers rest even when
Airborne.

From your outstretched palm,
sweet taste of morning touches
my tongue, oceanic dew drop
sharing itself across floating time.
An offering holding the last shining
starlight of this new morning. Drifting
now through limitless space,
finding words in our common language
on your yellow paper sails, we gaze down
from these towers of our ancient dreams,
emerald water below us waiting to catch
the falling feather.

Dear insight.
Light as the wind itself, you
Floated; fell on my heart.
Merged with heavy memories
Like paper balloons rising;
Tsunami of kamifusen
Render my whole being
Weightless.
Third-Eye-Hindsight sees me
Remembering nothing with
Bitterness.
One or a hundred lifetimes
Wandering.
Finally now,
Even waking hours feel like
Dreaming.

Dear Wisdom, Guardian Planet,
Buddha's radiance shining.
Thousand-Petaled Lotus
is now your own effulgent mind.
Smiling, eyes closed, feeling the
glowing kamifusen of magenta,
scarlet, turquoise, and yellow
floating above us,
we swim so deeply, diving down
into these warm emerald waters,
winking at the luminous fishes
dreaming all around us.

She died from her own imagination.
She gave up on the world
She wanted to live her stories
And look at where she got
She let the writing trick her
Into falling for feather lust
A type of attraction made for
Writers like us

I fell from the sky
And landed on the cusp
Of a soft baby feather

•

You are the feathers in my wings,


                              Without you,


                                                          ­      I could never ever fly.




And your love is my inducement,


                                  Without it,


                                                           ­                    I will never have the will,

                                                      And the valor,

                To learn how to fly.




with love <3





                                                    © Earl Jane
                                                      ♥ E.J.C.S.

Aspen, ponderosa pine, blue spruce
pink glacier-cut rock, scree, ravens
gray jay, peregrine falcon, hawk.

We climb to 11,000 feet in three days,
camp at Lawn Lake for three days. Alpine
tundra. Elk, bighorn sheep, marmot.

Tileston Meadows, ticks in grass,
rock face of Mummy Mountain.
Binoculars show pink cracks in gray rock.

Stoke gas stoves, play cards.
Boil water, set up tarps, lay out
sleeping bags, hang bear bag.

Watch crescent moon slice into
Fairchild Mountain. Moonlight
makes a mosque of the rocks.

Yellow aspen splash in dark green
spruce and pine. Gullies where streams
slash during spring snowmelt.

One rock, feather or flower worth
more than money. Need no wallet,
keys. Just clothes for fur.

All day climb toward saddle to see
what's on other side. One hawk floating
among bare peaks and over valleys.

Wind at 13,000 feet
turns to sleet. Turn back from peak,
take boulders two at a time down.

Winter moves into mountains.
Then we fly from Denver to New York
where it's still summer.

As light as air and pure as light,
Drifting along on celestial flight,
Guided by gentle wind and weather,
Fallen from flocks that fly together,
Behind the shadow of loss and fear,
Is a silent promise that hope is near.

today i tried to catch a feather that was drifting in the wind
so fine, so light, so delicate and grey as hell.
i clawed at it in a bid to catch the poor thing
yet the more i tried, the further away it flew.
i questioned myself over why i wanted to catch it in my hand,
and i realised i desperately needed something tangible to hold on to.
something; anything.
anything that i could pin all my hopes and dreams on.
i was too forceful in keeping you close to me,
to let you be the pivot of my existence.
yet the feather finally taught me today,
that i should let you go, and let you drift with the wind
and let it bring you where you will eventually stay.
maybe you will find a heart that will be your home one day.
until judgement day: drift, soar, fly!