you messaged back
‘I am afraid that’ – and stopped there
and in the silence then
the heart wrote a poem
whose words only the heart knows
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Once upon a time,
turned water into winein an act of love.All over the world, right now,a million grape vinesare performing the same miracleslowly; silently; aided by the sun;their roots, like farmers, coal or diamond miners,searching in the earthfor the most precious;it doesn’t hit the headlinesbut who dares saya patient, silent, unsung loveis any less a miracle?Who dares say…
I’m always getting this junky mail
inviting me to a ‘car boot sale’ –but I never wear boots in the car!
like a blank page, then
then a soft breeze blows it awaybut nothing is lostfor there was nothing to be gained;enough, that you were here;for you don’t need to pursue a metaphorwhen – see! – the metaphor is god, is world;you don’t need to convince us of anythingthat we don’t already knowjust a reminder that this ishow it is;a smile…
Between each word, what happens in the mind?
of thought; emotion; both perhaps enjoined;what depth of silent stillness may unfurl?It’s strange: as writer, when the words are set,I find myself in some quite other place,where writer, reader, hearer, truly meet;like talk that’s punctuated by deep peace.For me, each comma, semi-colon, dash,or bracket, or long colon’s pause, or stop,are moments when our minds may…
How can I COMPUTE love’s DATABASE?
INCHes its way into immortal life’s ASSURANCEin the seeming OYSTER of my heart?As SPAM is to the living red-blood MEAT,or TURKISH harem to a WEDDING vow,so are my SPIRITS to your LONGed-for BEAUTY;thrice DISTILLED within th’alembic of my soul,since but EXTENSION of your SATISFACTION,the PLEASING of your BEAUTY, is the FASHIONof my so painful-LENGTHENED, longing…
I was born to be a metaphor;
I did not fit into his scheme of things; I,knowing secrets of the tears of things,while he used his fine mind(which is, so obviously, beyond the physical)to deny that world, the metaphysical..To be a metaphoryou need to know your place;stay around too long, you losethat vital force; no one believesin the unbelievable – when there’s…