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 Jan 2020 Balthazar
M Vogel
 Jan 2020 Balthazar
M Vogel

Those things that you wrote back then, they came from the
wild-one, still in chains. She is beautiful, but the only relationship
she has known until now has been that of the pathological.
All she wants to do is be known, to be loved for who she is--
passionate, wildly wanting to become unbound, to become loved

                                                          ­                    for the first time ever.

She remains dormant, yet speaks louder
and more powerfully than anything else that is within you.

But she is kept in the dark--  out of fear..   shame,
and out of having absolutely no experience or idea whatsoever
in how to become known in any healthy, loving kind of way at all.
So she stays there--  inside of you,  in the dark--
unknown, unloved (within in her own self-view)...
fully wrapped in chains..
fully imprisoned by all that will never be able to understand,
or ever have the capacity to know.

I come to her almost every night, in hopes that love
(and the incredible crave that I feel for her),
will one evening become able to coax her out, in to the light of day.
She is wild, babe.. yes...
but she also loves you enough to be able to submit to you.

She is so very, very beautiful.
I hope one day to finally have the chance to meet her.

both of you,  are you.
 Jul 2019 Balthazar
A W Bullen
To Where Tyrolean aurochs
graze in cools of lapis prairie
, I have come,
In A Balthazar of star- led zeal,
my scarlet hunter flown from
urban zodiacs of anxious ports,
of ailing townships steaming in
their millioned yellow orders,
sick beneath the mountain's boot.

Through dim grimmiores
of softwood press
I sleeve,
In sympathies of woad to glean
the narrative of under_ storey,
bourne to earn my Eagle .
I  chance to know the trip of wind
kissed, sinuous on beaufort scales
balanced on a fingers edge to
turn October
into wine.
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