I hide my photos
in-between volumes
of “Shakespeare.”
From pages of prose
I unearth memories
at a leisurely pace.
Against the leather spine
my nails tap a warning:
Shh!
A library is meant for quiet.
I hide my photos
in-between volumes
of “Shakespeare.”
From pages of prose
I unearth memories
at a leisurely pace.
Against the leather spine
my nails tap a warning:
Shh!
A library is meant for quiet.
Sandalwood incense
Green and black lacquered cups
Peace in a moment
The alpine shepherd calls lowly —
an ursine bellow to his milky-colored charges
that single-mindedly graze, burrowing
their heads to smell new grass.
The gradual lay of the land invites
only a leisurely inclination to wander
and the air settles cool and sweet:
a mantle and disposition it has nowhere else.
So sluggishly heeding his call,
the sheep raise no more than fond tolerance
from their likewise charmed guardian.
Let me
Dip
My hands
Into the well
Of your patience
And slake
Anger
At your mercy
Or else
Bridle me
Claim me
As the eye
Does the storm
A warm solitude
Brings peace and quiet
Slow like rain droplets
Drying on skin
The warmth of three o’clock
Is hot cocoa after the steam melts
Into a white-ghost wisp
Is the sun suspended on her swing, falling
Just below the apex
Is the lingering memory of a kiss
Embraced before it grays
Recalled on the last note —
The splendor of a serenade
Fierce intentions crystallize
With actions hybridize
Movements opposite totalize
Wars consume and monopolize
Slice of heaven toppled and eulogized
Honesty euthanized
Truth brutalized
History resurrected and demonized
Peace, a moment, realized
Cycle
Repeat
An hour of sun
Who sees me forever young
A hug, a promise
If I closed my eyes
Would the world cease to exist?
Hold a sightless peace
A blank slate of stillness
Is what I hope for tonight
That the waves and ripples
Stay their ebb and rising