it’s always the same,
the way time travels through
my state of wellness, slow motioned
behind my lightening thirst for sensical,
my cells’ disarrayed dismay –
begging for meaningful placement
in the shadow of this storeyed tattoo.
Tag: Travel
A big thank you to another one of Christine Ray’s fine works, as a particular memory was triggered today.
~*~
Over twenty years ago, my husband and I were on our honeymoon.
I know. I have already shocked you in that first line. Or maybe I mean, me. I’m shocked.
Not just that we have been married for over twenty years. But because it wasn’t too long ago that life existed without GPS. And cell phones. And other BBD (blah blah devices).
the way toddlers dance to the notes in between the way DNA composes the seams notes of divine harmony and unexplained dreams the reticent wavelengths shudder unseen at unanticipated syncopation
Lyrics:
There is something exciting
About leaving everything behind
There is something deep and pulling
Leaving everything behind
Something about having everything
You think you’ll ever need
Sitting in the seat next to you
This is a reworking of a poem I wrote a couple of months ago, after visiting an old friend in Arizona. These gorgeous trees surrounded our camp site. A night by a campfire, sharing sorrows and burdens with an old friend, is one of the best things in life imho. Thanks to Charles, the reluctant poet for inviting me to join ‘the back side of the night’ theme started by The sailor poet. I really appreciate their encouragement, as well as that by Davy at Davy D blog. Thanks Guys!
~*~
How those maudlin woods enticed us
adorned so enchantingly with unprecipitation
and the black of trees’ core,
begging interpretation from the sympatheticly dressed.
but I am actually really good at it. And I have been told I should do what I am good at.
heart breaking nuances
their tenderness slicing me painlessly
in new breathing segments
clarifying the hemispheric movement
inverted in space,
suspended in the north
with a southerly persuasion,
my heart grown in two,
homes.
so my dear dear friend Mary Beth, in Sedona, has a little dog, Koda.
One day MB was showing me the way Koda paws her in the night to get her attention, and I swear, she looked like she was doing an imitation of a dog typing furiously. It was hilarious…
your name
written so beautifully on the map
to leave a lasting impression
and reminds me of a song
(I never understood),
