the better half has not yet been half told; life’s silver threads have known not such pure gold as shapes the heart of one, bone of my bone, who fills my void where i would bleed alone. flesh of my flesh, living where i might die, eternally to dust indemnify.
earth a s k e w, shadows fall; vile men, trifling, selfish ends to please, e c o s y s t e m s h a r m i n g, leaving but f o r b i d d e n fruits where have dried up hope’s lush fountains. on fresh sunshine-covered mountains, let the birds rehearse their flutes with the wind-song, charming in its treetop tease. then the rippling river s h a l l bring new birth.
dew-water man encountering mornings still half asleep underneath the sweat of chilly nights. cows and goats awaiting the kiss of kind hands before sunburst, his august voice enticing fallow ground to feed the table spread with hungry eyes waiting for a cheerful whistle to come home bearing fruited blessings.
her wings carried the nine no feathers plucked from the plumage of her vigilance. seven years more than ten decades leave never-fading diurnal melodies. her grave hath no grave songs the living sing but happy ones where the sweat of her brows has left a desolate habitation in full bloom
Scars tell tales beyond their gasps or moans or wounds.—cab
the oyster hugs its pearls, scorched by harsh grains of sand; the sand, swept by windwhirls, annihilate the land. sweet ebon, wear your rings —no tree as tall and proud!— where time has grafted strings to pull you to your cloud.
In memory of Audrey Cooper, who passed away 2021 May 02
pianoforte was her soul— an attitude to etudes that trembled before her finger-wooing cortège. compliant chopinistic nuances made of evenings ebon fire that melted stoics in front-row leather-covered armchairs, ...
the knee on the neck has even more chances to pray when the walls of prison sequester its life from former liberties. an abundance of fresh prison air will arrest all chances of asphyxiation in an opioid-free cage of discipline where the clock marks slow pulse for more than a desperate 929. let time stand still to educate fate's diminutive mind. where the Floydian Square reels from a testament of gruesome death let the Chauvinist Cell become a testament ...