Little roses on the bushes so small that you can’t really see them when you drive up when you pass by but they catch you little roses with their pink-blush-flushed-red petals looking so soft in the sunbeams that filter gently through their tangled vines – you almost really hear them for once you almost really do oh they sound just like they smell both sensations carried on the wind to bring you pleasure for nothing but pleasure or maybe sex with bees at least that’s what it always reminds us of – so we laugh at the sexy little roses that you can’t really see ’cause they make us happy somewhere beyond what really shouldn’t make the most sense but does anyway like laughing at little roses and sunbeams

It happens only when:
the door is open
the windows
open, blowing with wind –
When I forget:
I try to open again
pulling at the framework
structure begins to fold
paint flaking, reveals old
ink and paper crumbling
in my hands, bits and bits
becoming smaller, less –
significance fades out to
in, something replacing the void…

I have feared before
the wild dog
lurking in the dark
The alley beckons
his call replies
never seen but always heard
But tonight the darkness
I welcome in deep, into
my vulnerable eyes

Oh but how I am overtaken
overtaking her –
to know you
My soul whispers my safety
my heart beats strong
spirit knows the truth
Even if it can’t be spoken
it is still –
unbroken and cured
Give again the sweet melody
give again fragrant words
Sing my heart beat softly
and pray: my love: sick
Hurt my pride and –
shake my foundational bone
My hands fall victim to the latter
to the telling signs of decaying
assisted mindfully by sensory –
Wisdom and hope that maybe
I am invincible in this night’s darkness
in this light of knowledge
In the gaping, in the throbbing
In the inarguably real: The Real
“But” or Symbolic Imaginary Rules
Let me drink, I’m thirsty too
Let me taste this life you sip
Like tea, with milk and pie: heavy
Rich with cream and the wine
but I haven’t felt here since there
and there and there and when –
Sand amidst the darkness
Coming home; unexpected gifts
Joy: to be had, not stolen
To be whispered like knowledge
of the darkness and its light
Knowing, to share our hopes
All blessing all, for all souls
For the legacy, all truth and time
For the spirit of eternal wondering journey –
Our horizon: as it flees it grows too
Please please plead – stripes like lead
on my tongue: like black coal, like sticky, like full