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For the first time in my
life, I saw colors- not like
normal people see colors; my recent woman
sees colors all the time.
This morning, there was
purple splashed all over my room.
Once, in her sleep, she said
the word 'purple.'
I asked her what it meant,
she said, 'Knowledge of the future.'
I know she will try and ***** this
sickness out of me; God Bless her.
What do I know about the future?
I know it looks bleak, and the
doves are crying.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_arvp3Q6C8c
Check out my you tube channel where I read from my recent book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, available on Amazon.com
I was feeling
down
depressed
and dark.
I put
some
rocks in my
cup
to uplift my
spirits,
to climb
out of the hole.

I want to
run on
the clouds
and
touch the sun;
go 180 around
the third turn.
Feel nothing but
the wind;
go out like
Earnhardt Sr.
in
a blaze of
glory.
Last lap
last run.
 Jan 2021 Michael Perry
Owen
Hazel eyes
she has these hazel eyes.
They warm me skin to bone,
heart and soul.
They get me lost,
in leaves and sunbeams,
quiet morning coffees.
Steam rising
through the boughs.
Crunching snowy footsteps
in the forest.
And when her smile
reaches those heart melting
breathtaking eyes,
I let go of doubt,
and I surrender.
If I was a believer I'd say those eyes were heaven sent.
Years ago, we went down
to the wheat field, it was freezing,
& we idly plucked some burst chaff
before fumbling against a split rail,
the neighbors all watching
from kitchen windows,
let them watch, you said,
as you kissed me,
knees shaking in the yellow lake.
A revision of a poem from 2003
My Pen
My connection,
My thoughts and
My prayers

My words
My extension,
My gift through
My air

My time
My gestation,
My daughters
My sons

My dreams
My redemption,
My river
—that runs

(Dreamsleep: January, 2021)
No one’s ever gone
until forgotten

Their memory etched
like words in stone

—canyons to remind

(Chama New Mexico: January, 2019)

The clouds of imagination sailed past
The images and imagery created didn’t last
The rains took their breath away in a splash
All that remained was clay and some wet hay
Incomplete, yet replete
Inspired by a picture of clouds
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