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I wish I had more time
as I can feel autumn
blooming in my bones
and the winter of my death
glimmers  in some star
waiting to fall from the sky

maybe decades away
maybe days
maybe hours
maybe already on it’s decent

no morning I wake
is guaranteed to sail
into a night of sleep

I have not much in my pockets
other than a poor mans fortune
of coins and lent and memories

memories

what treasure is to be found
in my heart full of nostalgia
for names of ghosts
of loves found and lost
and hands once held
that now haunt my palms

is there some strange beauty
to this life
I haven’t seemed to get right
other than in the small moments
that felt like eternity
passing from my lips to hers

then from hers back to mine

has it been
one too many names
or one too few

I...

I have been lucky in this life
to have known the face of love
in more hearts
than anyone deserves
in one lifetime

and what of the agony
it would leave behind
what of the desperate aches
that would echo
in my empty heartbeat

those long nights of crying
over forevers grave
how many lonely tears
have I buried

has it all been a fairy tale
wrapped in the blanket
of a nightmare
of badly ever after

and if I had the choice
would I read it again?

Yes

over and over

these memories
this foolish heart
full of nostalgia
with all its scars
and broken pieces

is a mountain full of gold
burning with the bright fire
of a dragons breath
and raging with the blood
of a king gone mad

and yet still
I wish I had more time

if not for the autumn
in my bones
and the winter of my death

waiting to fall

maybe decades away
maybe days
maybe hours
maybe already on it’s decent
 Aug 2018 Miracle Beyond Me
L B
I woke suddenly
Felt someone
touch my hand
Brush of sheet in sleep?
Breeze from the fan?

Poetry--
Holes in the night
The sea is resting now
after a long day
gnawing at the edge
churning in deep hollows
ever so slowly eroding
this peaceful coast

Sand is the issue
of this marriage
sea and sky
combining to
make the land large
in its retreat

A handful of sand
to the winds
my life
to these tides
 Jun 2018 Miracle Beyond Me
Onoma
so much selective attention

to report of--

that the date's been omitted

for more than awhile,

despite numeric girth.

though an uncanny

guesser of time,

to the minute.

a startled rabbit

in a clearing.

snared and prepared--

to be called an

acquired taste.

what to do with all

these acquired tastes,

these refinements?

wait and see.
found a word,
down the road:

dandelion.

and, in a snowy way,
the  autumnal spring

- delusionnally -

took the girl
in a sway,
blowing away

her last match,
a blur of orange
in the smoking grey.
10.06.2018
some of us are born fools
some of us are born goods
and some of us
are born wise enough
to know there is no difference
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