I don't write, I paint myself blind with words...diogenes herded...ignorance...gilded cages...filling up on beauty unleashed...free will's maddening fractures...eyes that need to smell to see...
July 23, 2017
direct line divinity: a chat with self & not to say it would be eroding (when a soul is ever an athlete dying young ............................................. with apologies Mr. Housman)
did I remember to lock the door
or better yet turn the oven off
what other petty worries can I be a saddled you today
I am not sure but I will distance myself from joy
and remember all the things that could go wrong
like how long can time be stretched when racked
with negative possibilities, oh for the love of knees
soles, fingers and palms
in the raw earth when Spring
can you sing of Love and special things
what does make your heart sing
when no one is around to hear
your calls to the sky
little kid again
kite, let fly
the string
gathers further
and you smile
with your eyes closed
imagining the keyholes
to heaven are
listening too as you do, to the faint
ripple sounds of light fabric
against a balsam wood frame
EJR ©
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