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Poems Along the Path


In the Woodlands

I disappear

Walking legs and eyes

Melting head and heart


Textured squawks

And silent land

There was never a dispute about your differences

And though the acorns drop

And brambles cling

Not a word did you speak

You just stayed exactly where you were

You continued to grow

Through it all

Your bark fell

Leaves too

Leaving their taste and fragrances

To the earth

To join the great offering


Oozing pure delight

And gentleness

Tiny, delicate like a bird

Perching on a slender branch

In perfect balance

Humming sweetness

Pouring light

What a scene

Strong though

She knows

She holds

She's seen

Her textures enter me

Moving things inside me

And as If by magic

Squeezing to the surface

Those remaining parts of me

Yet to receive the great embrace


Crumbling castles

And stick house concepts

No longer support the weight of ideas

Grasping fingers

Trembling body

A dying breath

Of Invisible promises

Once made

Only to serve as lines to the boxes

In which homes were made

Neat lines and rulered corners

Timely smiles

Predictable moves

What now?

How wind owns this land

Without borders

Curving and crafting as pleases

Delighting in misshapen gestures

Stirring stagnation

Squeezing life from its tube


That’s all

Loosened and parting fingers

Relaxed body cage

Body breathing space

Mind breathing silence

Silence- my home

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