Posted on 11/24/2003 9:52:48 AM PST by January24th
I'm no so sure
that sure bets
can actually be considered
gambling
but I'd wager that
winter will follow
this bright spring
of our love
the risk is in
the uncertainty of survival
when biting cold stings
the heart into shamed silence
let it rest,
conserve its courage
'else it have nothing
to offer
when warmth returns
spared scythe
or savior
we simply
wait
symmetry
is the liability
of inflection
infecting
the alter ego
of abstraction
invective reflection
scales our
eyes
style
over substance
my ass
excessive collisions
support our
economy
Just a joke, Neuro. It's late and I'm not doing that well in fantasy football. Go figure.
feeling red
she painted
green bamboo
a banner
in the manner
of oriental
dragons
and white egrets
asleep
in a field
of rice paper
lanterns
with no regrets
parlaying
the under
her heart
skips
Caryatid
She holds aloft
a lamp
with sturdy assurance
a buttress of important
weight and intensity
accustomed to greater
responsibility in the days
of her empire,
yet shaped
beneath the
mist enlarged halo
that drapes her form
with the light that
cascades from a source
she will never see,
she remains
an artifact brought
to this moment of
illumination
against the circling
night
contributing still
to the maintenance
of a comforting
illusion
semblance
is an ocean
of meaning
in a heart's gaze
reflecting the soft beauty
the barbarian steel
the stolen inspiration
wrested from far-off
starlight
it looks so like something
not found in words or pictures
rendered in secret colors
shot through with morning sun...
so like a song,
yet sadder and sweeter
the notes
the measured time
of reflection
a semblance of perfection
golden dragon wings
prolong the breeze
like bamboo flower sighs
gay paper lanterns
flutter over a sunset path
protecting against the time
when lotus blossom clouds
fade through mauve
to midnight
By Camachee
glance
between
the veils
there
angels
lie
unaltered
we reflected
in silver
shadows,
balanced
upon the edge
of a glass
reality
that returned
to us our image
but kept our hearts
for collateral.
Racing with heart(self parody#3)
We never needed
the goad of whip
or spur, but raced
with rowelled time
providing the proper
encouragement against
our flagging sides,
And the staccato tick
of the clock’s
quick stick that beat
upon our already
willing backs
gave rhythm
to our run, tho
it kept only time
For we needed
no encouragement
or prod to mark
us as we tried
to forget where
we had started
seeking only
to cross the line,
scarred with
the urgency
of our own resolve
upon our harrowed hides
we ran blindly
towards the agency
of our own inevitability
with nothing
to decide.
For we needed
no encouragement
or prod to mark
us as we tried
s/b
for we needed
no scourge
or prod to mark
us as we tried
wherein
angels lie
they be devils
Some moments more than others
Rainlight
reflections always
remind me
that direction
isn’t critical to
to the pattern
of recollection for,
When dusk fell
upon our shoulders
we wore its cape
of colours, refracted
subtracted borrowed
from the spectrum
of the golden warm
candlelight café and grappa
as I broke down
laughing at the swirl
of you
that defied the
the cold rain but
needed its enhancement
to glaze the pavement mirror
Goodbye is such a shame
but still it was repeated up
in every broken plane
silvered by watered skies
gilded, with the incandescent
tease of pain.
And I saw you
a thousand times
walking away,
which cracked me up
cause I love still the
kaleidoscope of your
memory, the fragments
that rearrange and
and settle down
always in a design
like no other.
some
constructs
falter
when
light
descends
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