tears and sushiHe said not to think why it happened. blow through the moments, feel rain on your open palmsThey are all leaving now.aren't we all ghosts in the endI play around the why's, how I can't feel too much,play in the reflecting sun glints, smile like the moonbecause I feel everything too much andthat's what happened, he said. Your heart broke.oceans have voices, so listen to those onesYeah, I say. Yeah it did.He's still here like a ghost, I say.hand in hand, remember the vastness of whispering sandsIf I go somewhere good it's so hard to just enjoytheir dreams are formations toobecause that is when his absence is right there with me,playing starlight tiddly winksin the moments I was supposed to be sharing.just this, just this, just thisAnd those things hurt and the heart can notfeel rain on your open palms, blow through the momentscarry what I keep on giving it.
in this universe ..you were lookingwhere I was lookingwhen I was lookingfor the same thingthat is quite something
of ethics painting our linesbetween right and wrong they differhow will we get along
haiku for herhaiku 1beat my heart intoa submissive state: do this!hah! says my heart, hah!haiku 2my heart tells your heartthey way things really are, hah!I tell you, **** that!
stream sessionlooking to findthe something in youthat is looking to findthe somethingwithin yourself~poetry txt's live from a seat at(a place called) heaven's pizza~#townliving~see the flowerdream of the moonknow no other~and sea rolls inand the moon rolls onand this~this sore windtakes a travel satchelwhat choice?~(to understand the sore windthe reader needs to read'narrow road to the deep north and other travel sketches' by basho)~not in my homea place of shelteris called home~there we arewhere we arehere we are~he saysI have a busy headalways poetry~infinitymeets in every centreof itself~springbrings changeso change~a pandaon a tree limbtree limb holds~he must checkreviews for plum cafeI know it's sweet(super fussy friend cannotcommit to brekkie at cafe hehas not been to)~snow viewing partyseeing as you seeI too, stumble and fall~the silver hairof your motherthe meaning of this~silver hairmelting snowexistence contrac
collabapollooza 3.0a seed from a tree in a placewild rosesbowed by cold rainstill fragrantroses at the window, cold rain ratta-tatta on the hut roof. he strokes her silver hair---a seed from a tree in a placein the windowreflection of a catstartles the catanother cattwo catshiss---a seed from a tree in a placeSharp silver bristles...An owl, on her down-swoop,Glares at the close pines...wind giggles and shifts between pine branches, owl is surprised at sudden tilt---a seed from a tree in a placeother realms beckon;echos through an open door.should i stay or go?pick a rose and smell. beware the wary wind. how many cats are there?add a dimension or two, then you can stay and go. however, another seed this way comes. that my friend, may change everything.
half the moonphase 1 proudly watching half of my whole I'm wholephase 2 half of my whole gone half here and notphase 3 trying to remake out of nothing half of my wholephase 4 half ofmy whole
the forgivingwinter crushed autumn'srustic tonesleaving no leaveswith starkness of coldspring melted winter'swonderlandsparing no sparsenessfrom invading greensummer wilted spring'sflowering futureheating the heartlandand wringing her growthautumn chilled summer'slanguid playssinking the sunto put joy assunderthe trees forgive thebuds they used to be,the birth and the deathof the cyclesurfaces and surrenders.the sun comes closerand moves away, as ifever changingin the same ways.
Travelesque II(1)it's overduemy roadand it's winding(2)currency. passport.sunglasses. Basho.clothes. tickets.(3)packing a travel satchelthe porch, now swept(4)crossing mountainsI leave in drizzling rainso tooI arrive in drizzling rain(5)Basho's dreams of Fujia mountain &a river(6)the poet Saigyowrites forthe poet Basho whowrites forthis poet whowrites for you(7)sitting ina tea-housein the skywriting poems strangebut true(8)autumn and springare preparing themselvescan Ithen, understandyour transitioning(9)Basho sawhorses eatingroses of sharonagain, beautyhas it's time(10)awake atbirdbreak in Mooloolaba then light(11)what calls you to be present?what calls?(12)to meetwherever you areon whatever road we find ourselves(13)todayI saw10,000 buddhas(14)thunder storm and acrocodile show!(15)always keepprotection from rainin your travel satchel(16)on strange shoreswe have
the playwrightGod is a playwright.He sits in the back rowof velvet seats and claps160 bpm after every act.He closes his eyes whenthe audience laughs together,cries together.His play is very good,and He knows this.After the show,they always ask,“How did you makethe characters sovulnerable? Sohonest? So real?”He shrugs in his tweedjacket with elbow pads,frowns slightly, says,“The characters got away from me.I did not make them this way.”
Forming HelixForming Helixsit at the rootof totem poles,emblem blazephoenix scarsinto token shardsand let heat signaturesspike, sparklike alcohol ciphers.gazes glazed vitreous viewthat triggers starrysky-gaze stareseyeshot into shaky acuitybefore sclera’s bloodshotat divinityfalling likethunder discharge.autoscopy astral projectionas it spiralsandswirlsaround thunderbirdforming helix.
IlluninatedLight from within and light from without,Mingling in a dancing prism,Reflecting gold, red, blue,Reuniting orange, purple, green,Again to become a single beam,Focused illumination.
of substance and essenceyou want to figure it out?your mind is a ghost,sincerely. it is whispers