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always careening
invited in but always careening towards something (careless footsteps) skin throbbing from the sting (and not wanting to forget) the pulsating rhythm of blood rushing to the point of entry bathed in sunlight, the clenching stops while quiescent clouds gather rich, mellifluous enchantment moments and memories stitched together (everything in his house has a story)…
a polished stone
This has been one of the most painful, difficult years of my life. So much has fallen away. I have experienced great loss and betrayal. In the midst of this, I have not only been learning what love really is and what it feels like to forgive at a deep level but to also walk…
farewell
As a final farewell to each man I have loved and lost–whether by your deceit or mine, your projection or mine, your fears or mine–I offer this poem by Lord Byron. Today, I choose love and truth. Today, I choose joy. WHEN WE TWO PARTED When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted…
saturated in amore [a moment of logos in the life of a wandering heart]
your three to my one the amber and the red twenty five cents and a vibrating tilt-a-whirl you spoke of carnivals and dark, dusty paths that lead to where we need to be (to peeking behind the boards where darts come towards our hearts) popcorn with truffle oil meaningless meetings and Hoffa screwing and killing…
an offering
No, sir, I am not interested in taking your survey. I am interested in taking my time. No, sir, I have no need to “get rich quick” unless it somehow comes through honey dripping slowing on my tongue and down my chin. No, sir, I have no desire to ACT NOW! For I am listening…