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Glenn Currier Jan 2020
In the first light of dawn
fog shrouds the trees
and gentilizes the landscape
softens hard edges
unifies everything.
What is the fog telling me?

Subtract the number of details
that consume attention and energy.
Unify the landscape of life
into something more simple.

Maybe I should listen to the wisdom of the fog.
Mac James Oct 2017
She took my hand, I reached for hers,
But packages expire.
I signed my name in bleeding black,
Distracted by a fire.

I studied her place that flickered, and danced to most of songs.
Observing as an eskimo,
Oh, stripping coats along.

She took my right, she lent her left,
We bear this trade as fair.
I sold some skins, and broke for bikes,
But lady shares the air.

Cigar, the smoke, ballooned the mouth;
I puffed a cloud content.
She put me out, my zenith gone,
I huffed her secret scent.

"Aw, come with me my boy of mine,"
(As if I had a choice)
"I'll take your side and hold our cup"
-Those valleys in her voice

She dragged 'her hands' along with her,
My cheek and body bruised.
The scarlet halls preceded stairs,
Sangria walls ensued.

We came up to a room so red,
It bled with love, confused-
I was.
"Bring your heart to bed", she said.
"Bring here, my heart, with you."

So close we layed, our toes they twined,
Our clothes aligned like rain.
She said "I'm yours", and me, her "mine".
I softly, said the same.

— The End —