.

I’m fine with pining for  somewhere else

But I’ve not got a trace of sense

To embrace the opened-present tense

I’ll see my way to Calliopes call

The lines seem too long, too wide, an’ all

DREAMLAND boasts  “the most creative rides”,

So Go!

.

There I take my place.

Stare off into space. 

 

 

the Muses of Uran

“The Muses Urania and Calliope” painter-Simon Vouet

NOT REALLY SPRING THERE

April 11, 2020

It’s not really spring there yet.

The thing is, I think that you’ve

Found out some hyacinths to wear in your hair.

Mushrooms are way out. Buds above maybe move.

.

The bridge is too stark against blue of springs sky.

We’ll finish our trail then we’ll cross it halfway.

Feels we’re a vessel, overhead, just above.

We’ll be far over, and float, on our love, on our love.

We’ll proceed however,  from our bridge and our day.

.

.

20200411_074126

photo by Celeste

 

 

.CELESTE

.

That crap in yr creamy breasts  threaten us.

.

I pray for the day

We lay our selves back

Just time on our back

I sing only songs that ring only true

Right to  only to you

In bed we’ll watch “Red Shoes”

We’ll leave off counting re-watching “Brief Encounter”

We’ll listen read & listen to Burton’s reading of “Under Milk Wood”

At least we’ll feast on a breading and cheese plate

At last we’ll  settle  in  safe

From cancer   and

From  wait.

LAST PAGE

March 10, 2020

.

It’s the last page

The legal pad is over

At a fast pace

Just words have wandered off

I just waited for them to come

I just guess waiting is for the best

.

It’s the last page

Which will never fill all out

Like a life will fill a face

Just stories scar the drafts of

Fictitious faces with..within these eyes

I just guess telling, sounds like, is for the best

.

It’s the end page

The yellow pad is over

Seems like magic seems to be the case

Just word poems merely Grace the page

“Only I can keep my hearts claim”

I just guess poetry is unknowingly for the best

 

 

 

 

 

STILL WAITING

February 19, 2020

waiting2

 

All said, when waiting

Was a silent art, Worth it.

I must’ve been shushed.

 

.

.

.

 

.

 

PHOTO-MIRCEAIANC  (PIXABAY)

 

H E A R T S A P A R T

February 10, 2020

 

You’re the only one I call Honey, I’ve ever called.

.

Now,  it’s too quiet.

I fear  our embers  quiet

From the fiery glow

To firefly intermittent.

.

Again, I can imagine and wish

When  we  can restart

Our  hearts  that

They will be re-nourished.

 

A barge I bet  can float through our wait.

Hundreds of roads apart, while  hearts,

Skin-wall near,  forever here,  & there with you   wait.

.

.

.

O N E C L I P

February 1, 2020

door

I’ve dreamt.  I forget..

I only kept

One excerpt, one clip

I took back

Here to look back to

.

You may see way down

To two  in the water,

Not drowned.

You could see that down there,

That they were freely moving.

.

See

We ride out on

That river of grasses,

And that  for a while now

Made for the miles

Between us.

.

We’d ride out on

The one door, the one

We always want open.

We’d ride one door,

Still open

Wide to a wide world.

.

 

 

IMG_4957

.

Advent, even I wait on as

silent partner  in this stronghold.

Before I go on,

I’ll go on & make sure

The blinds are drawn.

.

.

When I’m

Aware/Awake  It’s gone cold,

For me to know it,

I’ll go on & need you some

I’ll go on & remind me some

I’ll go and turn my life down some

I’ll sit myself down until

I’ll see myself still enough

To behold

We’re meant, both,

Silent partners in this stronghold.

.

.

.

.

.

( FROM A FULL WOLF MOON BEHIND ALL THOSE CLOUDS,/ PHOTO, MIN

B E H O L D

January 10, 2020

IMG_4957

.

Advent, even I wait on as

silent partner  in this stronghold.

Before I go on,

I’ll go on & make sure

The blinds are drawn.

.

.

When I’m

Aware/Awake  It’s gone cold,

For me to know it,

I’ll go on & need you some

I’ll go on & remind me some

I’ll go and turn my life down some

I’ll sit myself down until

I’ll see myself still enough

To behold

We’re meant, both,

Silent partners in this stronghold.

.

.

.

.

.

( FROM A FULL WOLF MOON BEHIND ALL THOSE CLOUDS,/ PHOTO, MINE)

J U S T M I S S

November 22, 2019

 

When I don’t hear from her

When we don’t talk

Instead of what might

just happen in late night

screwball comedies,

A black & white

Cakewalk

Where he keeps

Just  missing her,

& unknown to her, her one & only is  so near,

& you watch & wait for them to wise up,

For when their timing improves.

When I don’t hear from her

When we don’t talk

Instead of just sitting tight,

& trusting the plot twists,

& trusting our protagonists,

& holding still for all that insignificant subterfuge

Until it all plays out that

They can finally take cuts in the

Everything’s-Fine waiting line/

Instead of that

He keeps just missing her.

.

.

.

.

SCREWBALL

from “BRINGING UP BABY”