“winches whine, sheets stretch and bellow, “more” … “more”
spittle in the air, from men and sea, wet with excitement.
ready about, heel hard as she takes hold, moves on
“Enveloped in beauty and trust, it listens
Revealed by sight and sound, gently
In whispers of hushed tones, to us, this day…”
“Laughter is a reminder, the past, large trees provide shade, place
Days of old nourish days of tomorrow, Remember
Never forget, the childhood remains, a constant like the wind”
One after another
What is love to you?
What do you call it when someone has feelings for one another?
Its love not hate, its forgivness not holding a grudge..
“Nobody is going to ever own her soul”
…and there was that poem
which once rocked her head
Frightened by words
that collide with the ends.
She will not have to ever apologize for being one.
the measure and shape
of love freed
A mystery born
of there lies none
This silent sound …
not too profound
It’s just the soul
that comes to bare
The consious underconsious you
Wahono’win (grief and anguish)
Smell the incense of the Balsam,
Hear the words the Great Spirit speaks.
Time for mourning comes and passes,
Beware the hazards my friend!
Fog was eating up the road ahead…
The Sea as a She…
Sorry I haven’t been around much! My computer is sick and I have to save the money to get it into the doctor. Then on top of it, I use comcast for my email and they just changed it all. I will …
Here I sit within
the portals of pain
week in, week out
regurgitating for analysis
platitudes and banal musings,
merging with heightened scenes
of abject misery
in ever more synchronized
rhythms . . . thr…