#Love
Good morning, fair cardinal— How are you? How are your children? Your plumage is nearly outdone By the sun’s golden hue.
My friend once sighed That he watches planes fly by And wonders where they’re going. The world’s tempo beats on. I, too, prefer to stop along
Let us drink in the sunshine From a cup of globe mallow As would one of palatine Privilege beside God’s throne. Here’s to another springtime.
Death, to me, is a stranger; I know not his whereabouts. I’ve seen him but haven’t heard – I know of him but we’ve not met. He spoke at length with my elder
A milky-eyed mourning dove Sat upon a tombstone – tacit – Inside the grounds of St. Francis To admire a cache betroved. A sentinel’s duty – it bears –
Every day is a new adventure A new iota, a new gnosis— Search not by the easy standard But see through the eyes of genesi… The more I learn, the more I love
An inhospitable truth I have To carry throughout my life That must stay buried in my heart— What a terrible truth! It dances on my tongue
I’m envious of the clouds That float happily in the sun— Changing into colorful shrouds— Lumping from many into one. Their most compatible friend—
The wind hears many secrets As he blows at his election. Only a hearer at best— He mulls them over and again But doesn’t repeat or think aloud
Keep your vigil, whispers of gray— Speak of what I do understand. Assault the evil glare of day; It doesn’t speak for my heart – Rather for the city made of stone
Last night remains a scent Remembered at slow length— Drawn from the air, lingering abou… A secret kept under my breath. The union of your soft lips
Tarry with me tonight My dear firelight! Your precious warmth be My solitary company. It’s my plush blanket
A rose gave up her secret Of its origin – of its beauty – In the shadow of her crescent— Fiercely hushed once to me. She told me of a plan of love
My spirit cannot be bridled For it is as wild as fire— As innocent as a child And in secrecy, has desires. My body cannot contain it—
Sweat is the other garment You wear in the desert When the only water is in the cact… And all but the flies are inert But a cool layer of sweat