How could it be informal
For a season to shift away
Lose ones leaves, harvest frost
Whither and die away.
And in the grand finale,
The final shift of light
Sprinkled with white snow,
A rest forever known.
Tag: white
Fallen / Left (day 2553)
I could be falling over you,
Knocked down by time
Left here to wind my way
About books and seeds
And burnt candles
Handled by delicate hands
To the tune of Chopin
Rustling pages of a score
Over aged ivory keys
On a wooden floor
Showing signs of nostalgia
In gray and white carvings,
Had I known any better.
Heart & Eyes (day 2455)
Take my heart and leave my eyes
One hundred leagues away
There is just one ol’ teak tree
I stand beneath today
Leaves yellowing and trunk so white
Amidst the forest so green
Elephant tracks to the great Mekong
Ox grazing back and forth
Inside Thy Skin, Thy Ancient Eyes (day 2399)
Every time inside thy skin
I want to write your name
In black and white
Of an ancient script
Name that cannot end.
With every word in wright
Leaking through my pen
Letters never dare to dry
Strength that cannot cramp
My dreams return again, again,
Upon your ancient eyes.
Tramp in a White Dress (day 2135)
I’m a tramp in a white dress
Lost in a blizzard
My gloves both have big holes
And my glass is half full
Because it’s alright
To go it alone
When the river runs wild
From the abyss of a true soul.
Tracing Blurry Lines (day 1844)
My eyes have become the blurry vision
Of what they once used to see,
Fading sunlight in a white-washed
Washing machine.
The deck has become stained
With forgotten footsteps,
Leaving only smears
As marks on my mind.
And I delicately touch rough bark
Encircling our plum tree,
Tracing lines from hither to tither
Like the vision I once used to see.
Sheets in Pages (day 1747)
I could write your pages onto sheets of my unkempt bed
Slowly cycling the in-seam with the hem,
And rolling each corner up like a cigarette to smoke slowly
Because love here is so thick it’s impassable;
Between eyes of surrender and a heart of
I’m never letting go.
So I blot my pen into deep white sensories
Circumnavigating each prior night’s creases – expertly –
Until my final stroke has been felt and embraced
As if it were written upon thy own lined back.
Dionysians (day 1740)
I’ve written about an ancient earth
Left to crawl alone, alone.
Shaken and blurred with ghastly turd
To wrastle for each their top.
All in time a second chance
To few artistic Dionysians,
Who left their mark in deep white sand,
Unintelligible and very discreet.
Alpine Mountaineering (day 1708)
Wind swept
Frozen white
Mountain peaks
Owls (day 1706)
I’m not quite sure the song,
Ending of no name.
Alone and upturned,
Grass in white snow.
Yet all around was soul,
Spinning in mid-winter foul.
Owls at twilight
Memories in dancing firelight.