a pause, rested against the mill hopper
behind the glass of an eye

these empty mornings
climb through a mindful shell- as passes a gust by bare branch

distant looming giants wade freely tantamount to possibilities
in the house of both existence and not
they flow before us like gods

the raised lakes of Beijing
are fitted with the finest glass walls
parents go there to unload their unwanted children
the squids of the lakes grab hold of the children,
          hug them
                    adopt them
                          teach them to breathe
people walk by, pay no attention
but the glass walls are built tall
            wiped clear
to the point where i can’t help but to notice.
the orange plumed tentacles
grown straight from the children’s backs
          pulsing like a flame
                  like a phoenix
                         like a poppy’s bloom
smeared by the color of the water’s haze
or the tourist’s awe-shot eyes.

the blue glow of the television screen
mimicked the moonlight through the car window
where sat, Kate and i, in silence, watching
after a day gone that began with my name and hers

continued on until her slumber
whilst a lunar halo around me kept me walking in the night

the Georgian oak canopy hangs around like aurora borealis
i’ve never noticed it before

i open my windows in October
when i sleep

i am alone

still candle flame through frosted stone

a warm milky glow
& cool crystalline air

these things weave me together

zephyr passes over the shimmering abyss
plots formed from images vacated

it’s what i breathe!

things that flash through my mind:
contemplative lips of a forgotten dancer,
bangs brushed aside,
a glance over shoulder…

                      ~

a spider beckoned me,
to show me the mandala he calls home.
he took what looked to be a deep sigh, and said,

inside and out, we all have gifts
to be given, or shown, or flashed through thoughts.

i asked if he could give me a tour.