spark
filled
words
illuminate.
(or is that only the light of the screen?)
that familiar
rolling two-step
of two minds sparring;
duelling tongues –
merely surrogates for wary hearts.
embers building
&
growing
secure
in the warmth
of each other’s
soft
glow.
it
may just
be
safe
to
laugh again.
with you
in the
pocket of my smile.
and
with me,
curled snuggly
in the
starlight
of your eyes.
spring comes
dripping
expectant
and
violent,
assaulting in an audacious
riotous cacophony
of sensory delight.
are
you
ready?
sun
and fire
will never
ever
hide this desire.
passion pulling
the reins
of the heart
& wrestling
with future and past
to deliver
the moment.
the moment,
past.
yet
never
to arrive.
wandering through a world aglow with light
wondering why some so fear the night.
seeking the answers deep within
feeling, alone and in perpetual spin
yet
following
gold-
en
threaded truths,
wrapped in
the comforting sounds
of rolling hoofs,
she finds her way
through cold endless nights.
and through loud hectic days
she finds her way.
amid the confusion,
and spiritual contusion
she finds her way.
a month or a year
a lifetime or a day
she finds her way.
the compass,
buried deep
in the heart
of it all
guides her way
to
that happy day.
the puerile pureness of solitude
glimmers faintly:
a threadbare cloak
offering a
veneer of hope, and
meager protection
against the rigors
of community,
and life’s other
trivialities.
stalking ghosts of wild musings
and fantastical inspirations,
his belly,
filled with yearning
and snapshot feelings,
rumbles for
the messy guts of intimacy and
fear.
the vast expanse of jungle:
a cage,
against distraction;
a recipe for freedom and
inaction.
his roaring defiant howl is
a sad echo filled with pride,
and nothing more.
magic
shines
and
giggles
and dances all about,
but
without love,
he feels
it not.
so he continues on,
drowning helplessly
in beauty
and wonder,
seeking
the flint for his soul.
I have
deep
in the heart
of
me
words
that spell no letters.
songs
that compose
no notes.
epic saga and
poetic symphony
whirl
violently through
my soul-
unheard
but not
unfelt.
I am
feeling.
come,
creature of dusk
and
magic,
come and rest –
your head
upon my chest,
and let us
slip
away
through forest
and jungle
into the depths.
what treasures
what terrors
what pleasures
may we uncover.
come
with
me.
let us
just be
one.
windy
trees
shriek of the coming
storm
that
is already here.
it roiled,
as young hearts toiled
for naught else
but
a clean
start.
but the tempest calls
now
vengeful
frightful
fearful,
of the calm that will come tomorrow.
Title from “A Wrinkle In Time”:
L’Engle, Madeleine. A Wrinkle in Time. New York :Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1962.
a thunderbolt
crashing down upon my neck.
a tidal
wave of peace,
calm,
and surrender.
feather falls
from eagle’s wing
down from the sky
to
mind’s
eye.
from whence she came
I dunno.
but when she should go
I
follow.
unexpected
circumhappenstance
thrills
my heart exuberant
ly.
our first dance awaits:
tangled and fallen.
and whirled all about,
is this love, she asks?
(why must we doubt)
I rhyme with pride
because I must hide
anxious anticipatories.
I sing
to thank the heavens,
the Universe,
and
You.
an unexpected turn and
castle meets queen.
astonished, he floats by
lost in his dream,
a delirious reverie
of Beauty,
with a soul of steel,
eyes of starlight,
and heart-
Tremendous.
The game is on:
Surrender,
&
Victory:
inevitable
and
mutual.
and welcome.
pittering
(too busy to patter)
skurrying &
slinking.
daintily
magically
fearfully,…
trickstery.
stopping
in order to
sniff
my heart’s intent,
he turns to go-
and turns again
to
sniff some
more.
Keeper of secrets
and mysteries,
and this boy’s imagined
histories.
Guardian
of misty nights,
and impromptu
smiles.
Mr. Foxy Fox,
welcome home,
to the castles,
and pyramids
of my mind.
theDeprevation 