words create worlds
I bought myself a tuberose to honor that of ‘17 (the only stem that could take me from hell to now) that’s what I see inside the pearly little roses (a freight car bearing all whiffs of life) burst on a twisted-heading-to-the-essence rod (their perfume- instants from another life of sealed emotions). I bought myself a tuberose to
Black ink on pristine paper of the mind (untraceable tattoos on your children’s lives) stuffed boulders (on their fragile shoulders) stepping stones in loops of fate (scars of your knowledge’s thrashings) wars for peace (emerged from your innate cruelty,) that never failed to smash every unruly slave (though you say love is the cause –
A drop of you, a drop of me, instants dripping through the unexpected heat. Surrounding us diaphanous fairies of fate in circles merging colors- a bit of blue, a chunk of red, into the blank of white, the time we never spent, a cloud, some memories submerged in the unknown, the present rose, a present
A twisted careless thought curled back into the middle of my mind. An accidental consequence of someone else’s solid truth, a radiant silent reply, a whirling wind, the dust of scattered memories brought up. I wish I could have held it – a kite I’d never flown. I wish I could have kept it out
Sentimental story Then we met more often. I stood at one side of the hour, you at the other, like two handles of an amphora. Only the words flew between us, back and forth. You could almost see their swirling, and suddenly, I would lower a knee, and touch my elbow to the ground to
Worlds of Words 