Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
July 11, 2017
Starting over,
Picking pieces
To put together
A bouquet
Of my own
Independence is fragrant
With excitement
and trepidation
But this is my own
And I will own
this arrangement
As one picked
by and for
All that is essential
to me
July 9, 2017
Yesterday,
I sojourned
to old stomping grounds
To the valley, a paradise,
Where the pond, gates,
and Main and Green streets
helped shape me
The store fronts and faces
may be changed
But the spirit holds true
And as for me,
My skirt flowing
Open heart and
Spirit soaring,
Belonging-
I felt sure,
reaffirming
I have not betrayed
The me
I cultivated here
July 8, 2017
An algorithm
controls your life,
This “love”
is numbers
playing with your mind
With constant coincidences
and real life imitating fiction
It is stranger still
To fix the insanity
Of mind control
We take a pill
-the screen flips-
And we wonder
Just how much
Of everything
Is real
He asked her
Not to love him,
And not to analyze him,
Then laid a labyrinth
At her feet
Twists and turns
She can’t
Help herself;
But wants to
Trace it’s path
A game
She is not strong enough
Not to play
July 5, 2017
She lost her footing
Once before
Imagining she was imagining
A true scorpion child
In fear
She struck words from the page
Discarded her compass
Deleted celestial lyrics
And cast off her epic tale,
In vain.
Here and now
She cloaks herself,
gingerly tests
tepid water of words
Wanting so much to share
And open a heart, bursting
Fearing a repeat dance
with Maniae
She questions her suspicions
And agonizes
Over understanding
The complex webs woven
by the distant one
she can only love.
July 1, 2017
I search
In daylight
In the night
In crowds of faces
In the rain
In snow
In the country
In the city
Here
And there
In story
In song
And in legend…
For in my dreams
you no longer come,
As I’ve lost
too much of myself
meeting you there
And memory has fossilized,
been reimagined
in different shapes and color
And yet the same ache returns
Knowing what I’ve known
And may never experience again
But having known it
I still feel the warmth that comes
from having felt love
That lingering feeling
is what makes it
nearly impossible
to let go
entirely
And so without intention
My heart seeks
And unexpectedly
reminds endlessly,
of you
She of Letters 