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M a r a c h i n o . . .

Ripe ruin
the wind on the wires wanders
cuddling attic ghosts

goosechill amplification

and the rain runs
spilling
from the dark overhanging
eave

from the thick trunked limbs
that harbour snow
and ice dew in February

glitter labrynths
groaning in the gusts
breaking the light of dusk

sticky whiskey kisses
adorn slick tiles
and a day falls
brilliant and hurting
a gash of breath
laying on a lake

sleeping beneath
heavens breadth
and a dreams
hitch

unbridled
and stirring

waiting on the storm

Editing stage: 

Comments

not idel hallucinations
what poem painting song does not spring from
an encounter??

others..
muses..
lovers..
guides offer so much

and as an artist
there is nothing like the honor
of this exlusivity

this Belonging!!

(initiaton of contact)

author comment

You certainly stir something in me when you write poetry, i'll admit i'm not sure i ever understand the meaning in your verse. But i always read and enjoy, though not always commenting. Regards Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

read much of them Thermal inversion etc etc...anymore then the science of lightnin bugs
or romance....But I dont understand writing much either though Ive read up a great many
books on all....I write preferring this manner....much as I speak as this in real time...Why
I have so few few friends and for those that come close to linger and indulge in story lines
and experience........they are rare of rarest........

Lately I am developing the simple work to live amongst the many and multitude
as a travel would embarking on a journey........a journey I have long been on...

Thank You

author comment

you are the only one of a kind
in the manifest of god of human kind
animals and plants beside
you upon the volleys of time do ride
unbeknown to many
what speweth from you
even I am ignorant
but look forward daily to read you

loved

but I say to myself that I cannot believe this
Loved that I know is quick and fast
furtive and clever...

Thank You Loved!

author comment

naive mostly
someone told me quite early in life
you are unassuming and naive

I did not know the meaning then
of either

in later life I learnt
he /they meant

A BLOODY FOOL
now I take it cool

thanks Esker
you r wonderfullllllllllll

loved

i am in love with this poem

i was captured at the first line, and even after
reading it four times, it still hasn't let me go

rare for me (particularly recent months) to
be so ensnared by a poem .. to feel so naturally, an actual part
of what i am reading. what a gift

your use of language is quite extraordinary
time and again you take everyday jargon, combine it
with words that send me scurrying to my dictionary,et voila! ... magic!
you, my exotic, erratic, wonderful w, are an artist
a poet

it is a joy to read you again

sigh...
m

"ensnare".....and "unbridled"

the pale night wrapped tressed in its leads
its routes...the lead pain dreams and thrashing
toss of binding panics and fears

or the soothing comfort
tied to the solid knowings

words....visuals
jargons
language..

we are lucky
we have spilled our vowels
knowing accent
of poetry

Listening to conet project soundbytes
broadcasts of a female voice during
the coldwar..completely senseless
without a code key.....but still very
sexy (I think)

I like crude and I like quality
caveman to rennaisannce

will be here tommorrow to
write more...

Thank You M

author comment
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