I shall deface this virgin field of beautifully textured cold-pressed paper with primal scribble atop primary colors cc: CC '23
Category: Poetry
Whenever you have an Epiphany about yourself, consider it a perfect time to clean out your clothes closet
cc: CC ‘23
There in the distant autumn,
the sound of bluejays on the wind
atop a heartbeat, a pulse -
ceasing to perish, a refusal
to ever say goodbye,
caws fade with flight, despite
all aspiration to the contrary
an echelon
a vee…vanishes
all for one and all but for one
becomes the single point
upon which we all converge
in time in sky we find
those similarly winged
cc: CC ‘23
My art
for my eyes
is not commodity
cc: CC ‘23
I’m tired of searching
for all things
hidden in plain sight,
I’m just trying
to find my way home
They say with a pocket
of keys all things
turn out all right
better than being
in the cold alone
I heat my hands
on a cauldron of lost years,
lies of dreams, visions
of tears
don’t let sunbeams
detour around you,
intercept and receive
their flow
my solar plexus was warm
next to your warm solar plexus,
around your way, around your nexus
of the woods
Where the heavens
about you would
constellate
pulse madly in rhythm
realized over eons
(if one could tap their foot,
thrust their hips,
keep time for so long)
under the vast night sky
with the right pitch of darkness,
I can see you there!
cc: CC ‘23
Morning sun,
I yearn for
a guitar, a
rake, a paintbrush
cc: CC ‘23
We can't... and we shan't! cc: CC '23
The lines of the tree,
never more fluid or
more succinct
cc: CC ‘23
The night is not dark enough,
not yet deepest blue - indigo
enough, to reveal the star field
I envision, too much ambient
light overhead, in the glade,
to allow them glitter
A flag, the world is,
unfurled this night,
the heavens our crest,
to live till we die,
our motto, a cry to rally
this rage against the day,
this birth of light,
as you know, do not go
softly
cc: CC '23
In memory of an old voice once found here (click thru on Impressionism)
Alphabet City 