fragrant

this, a sky leaf from above in landings of scent and pastel. and when the dawn is adrift on the alchemy of moon, orison shivers by the door. a pilgrim, a dove trembles rhapsodies to railway breeze, in fragile veils a meadow shifts opening the horizon. for miles and miles, unmapped, rain bows to nameless halls of warm earth. from rivers of the heart along shores of your clouds. light

 

 

image by Marina Entina

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nascent

this, astir, tiding of a windfall in the noon of fire. a fledgling smile, hummed with cloud towers of blues to the unbound. and i’ve seen, blossom cradles keeping the monastery quiet of a petrichor field. opening eyes, whispering gentle thunderstars of green ghosts to being. vingt-mille fleurs sous les fleuves. vingt-mille fleurs sous le ciel…rising, swooning into the infinite you

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east2west

dear readers, a wonderful crew EAST2WEST needs support on youtube. they are a group of enthusiastic, hard-working dancers that regularly make amazing k-pop covers. here is one of them. you’re welcome and thanks in advance 🙂

daggers and silk

it takes a lot of skill, of training
to be sharp, precise, swift,
coordinated or compartmentalized
in dance

it takes an acceptance
of being vulnerable
and more rare-
an acceptance
of being ached by life-
to be deeply gentle and fluid
in dance,
to stream self
through movement
as lushness of spring waters
or amber snow melting
down from maple branches
nurturing
the vernal earth
shaping the contours
of thornless flowers
grateful to just be
alive

gardens

(for dear friend Martin)

 

i’ve heard her-
a hidden firefly
speaking in dusks
of shine and lavender
across the path
of harmony flights

(it’s easy
to hear,
just close your eyes
at 7.31 p.m.
and color your heart
with any color you like)

she told me:
each time you write,
mountains grow magic grapes
for the huckleberry wine of life,
scented rains
paint ladies’ umbrellas and smiles
with delicate petals,
from dust to heaven sway
the silk-red wisdoms
rise and dance

of wind and fall and dew
and fire,
of woods and moss
and faerie wings
(and don’t forget,
a waterfall of lightbeam stars
to accompany them)
your words are melodies
that melt unspoken lakes
into the bloom of dreams

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nuit de veille

it’s when a tear of dark water collides with billowing walls, of minuets in captivity, clouds and piers muffled in the beat of summer on the verge of a storm. a moment inevitable finds the ground. flower’s delirium falling..revealing.
because the night and sorrow of city dust fades bones and bruises to the sleepy eyes of earth. in the street, lit with only a breath, struggling to see a particle of space to slip the burning nettle of a fractured skin away. untiming the vulnerable. avant que l’ombre.
and what is beauty? a wondrous escape, a solace in a chamber of the soul injected with dream of oblivion? a luminous shore rushing to save itself, to save the bright new world?
my home: dimmer, rooted, quieter.
there’s nothing to forgive. you are beauty shaped away from categories. raining, imperfect and free.