So much to say, which means so little;
So little to say, what that means much.
These ends we face, often,
Come on fast and taper out just as such.
What that remains: naught but thought.
Loose and multiplicitous as strands,
Hair of the artist's brush,
Colors as the richest palette -
Bold & bright, deep & dark

If it were mine-
I think of the past, time
Unpauses, and I'm brought back.
I'd never have;
Factors weigh too heavily, those
Strings that keep me attached.
Choose to come back.
Waters fall, the stream cascades
Flowing into itself
Over & over again

cognit discontent
cognition desire
the mother of movement
so says amoeba

Do you promise?
Do I have to promise?
Why can’t you just promise me?
Why can’t I promise you?

Compounding compromise after compromise
Plunge unto the same mold and lose our eyes
Lose our ability to realize
I drift to you because you aren’t me
You don’t complete me but you don’t deplete me

After-surge, recharge
Electricity in your touch
A culmination of all you’ve ever felt, been through

And I fall harder through the floorboards of my arrogance
When your fingers fuse with the heartstrings
Reminding me without words
You’re easy to move around and I swim through you

Converge and compromise
God, I think your fingers should melt me down
Oh, they make some of my favorite sounds
Fusing with the heartstrings
Reminding me without words
That feeling is you
Do you promise I can have it too?

Compounding compromise after compromise
We pour unto the same mold
And lose our eyes
We didn’t need them anyway
I’m not me, you’re not even you
Release myself into the wild and swallow you
All we can be, drowning on the same wave
Holding hands to stay in parallel motion
Amidst all the commotion
Without eyes I can say I wouldn’t want it any other way
Converge and compromise with you

It’s the essence of sensation,
the elastic feel in the body,
spiritual flame in the heart,
the wild movement that
lights up earth and sky.

It’s the centrifigal force
that radiates mood’s sunshine,
the moment of unexpected torque,
infinitely complicated yet simple
in its sublime resonance.

Each step is gifted,
each step an idea,
a word unspoken,
a poem in the making.

For dance is flux and motion,
a viseral trance, a carefree discipline
of endlessness promising bright
tomorrows until the final release
beyond earth-bound dimensions.

A box fell from the shelf
Before my very eyes,
Spilling contents as it went,
To the place that it now lies.

I don't understand why
Certain things are beautiful.
But I watched it as it made
Its descent and I felt very
Moved.

As a nature lover
I immerse in the greenery
I relish the scenery

The charm of the hydrangeas spreads
The forsythias smoothly toss their heads

The lively leaves hum
The green grasshoppers delicately jump

Hither
and thither
I seek the mirth
I simply
adore the earth.