BM.14

The unusual punch of the city fades behind me

I reach forward in hope

with an eye for isolation,

but a need to meld

nature ripples out around me

silent and loud

slowly in the resonant stillness, souls connect

particles of dust become clay

unity holds, one alone and together all

the binding cacophony slips away in such a space as this

the reiteration of my daily trajectory

writ large and now shouted loud by more voices than my own

“Whatever satisfies the soul is truth.”

…is truth…

fingertips stretched wide

touching the horizon

once more into the wind, scattered,

only bound by that which binds us all

in the city and dust

the refrain has followed me…

“That you are here—that life exists, and identity;

That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.”

(quotes courtesy of Walt Whitman)

Moment (First)

exhale escapes

"warm rush of chemicals" 
drip from my fingertips

as I feel the dopamine of you
slowly
fade
out
to the ends of me

Could
and 
Meant
vie for space
in the expanding void
(the twilit droke of my imagination)

drip.
drip.
drip.

"there's no indication of what we were meant to be"
but could we...?

fingers curl
1
2
3
tips/palm

outside pushing inside
stem the flow

it is my open palm
that stops,
it.

and I
connect
to you.

warm rush like wildfire 
floods back in
to the center of me

the only contact
index/palm

drips stop

connection

(a) breath        shared

unfurl

calm

drip.
drip.
drip.

(stop)



- r. poet

-

Friends come and go
loves too
I dance

I dance
though people steal your space on the dance floor
I dance

when the timing is right
and the bass swings, just so
I dance

head down, introspective
hands up, joy reflected
I dance

I dance
on the sidewalk
in the grass
on the pavement 
in the street 

dirty toes
muddy feet

physical changes take place
chemical synaptic metamorphosis

I dance

silliness happens
and realness too

I dance

in all that is impermanent and impermeable 
I dance

Fool's Folly

Love is a fool, 
but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Why should such fancies,
be governed by the mind?

The sum of the heart,
can't be found through a problem of math.
(or purchased online)

Love is a fool, 

but I wouldn't have it any other way.

It's in the element of spark and surprise,

in a flash, there, light and illumination.

The moment of stillness,

between two, on a summer's day.

(at the cusp of night)

Love is a fool, 

but I wouldn't have it any other way.

The fool lives within each of us,
looking for an invitation to court.

My Converse are ready for the party,
these Chucks were made to dance.
(now where is that damn fool?!)

Pinstripe Ink

Penned in pinstripe,
a reprobate meets a rogue.
Crossed quill and sword,
one-two makes ten.



Inky black vignettes...

(now)

(here)

(gone)



With sleight of hand 
and slightly aware,
a question hangs...

that has hung,

men.



How could I do to you,
what has undone me?


~ R. Poet

Jabberwocky

In honor of all nonsensical poems out there...have a Monday that embraces the lighter side of life. 

 ~ R. Poet

Jabberwocky

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
     Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves
     And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

      The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

      The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;

      Long time the manxome foe he sought—

So rested he by the Tumtum tree

      And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

      The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

      And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

      The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

      He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

      Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”

      He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

      And the mome raths outgrabe. 

~ Lewis Carroll

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Ennobled Dirt Blanket

dirrrrrt blanket...
O' dirt blanket.

your filthy -ness?
was our warmth
on a night that needed none.

...an island in a grassy sea of magic.

O' dirt blanket
a many stanza-ed verse was written in your honor
alas the memory of which
melted like the velvet night
into dusty dawn.

O' dirt blanket,
where are you now?


~ R. Poet