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wander the crepe wind
thin like frost
the snow lost
revery shinning
like polished dreams

the night is black
and we cant go back
point blank
you say

turn and my vividness
has turned to rust
the junkyard sleeping
and dead fires keeping

place a hand on my head
"Its a fever " I say
and you nod grave

the stars have fallen
wishs drift like

streetlight burns like
loiters patience its
crown of sodium
leaning on the snowbanks

"because you love me" you
and the power of you
stirs me deep within
the vaults down the stairs
where I havent been yet

and then I know
then I remember
why I feared

cold hearted dream
seeping in the stars
rising in your plume
let the delicate trick
keep my soul
within that room

and she can find me

Editing stage: 


in dreams
in the underground rivers
where summerstorms thrash
light flickers
and in the bulkheads
of past and present
they meet like pressure waves
groaning at the rusting plates

"I know you" she whispers in her sleep

on his palms glitters river sands
at the ice edge beneath the black
bridge where time has forgotten
the purpose of the hour
and erased the names of stars

he has written a sonnet
just a black shadow
listening to the sighing
of the river singing like
the hope of new tommorrow

author comment

poem is from old myths Ive watched
art interpretations movies
greek myth about going to get his
muse from the underground land
but he looks back and loses what
he didnt have patience for
usually happens to me a lot
love tradgedies
then snow white but snow white
isnt a woman its a man awakened
by a princess and the myth starts
from there

a night of stars like the trade floor of the
stock exchange all the wishs like prayer
poems like snow like blossoms perfumed
with empathy apathy passion loss
rapture all heady stuff for every star fallen
is a trade for someone awake and not
dreaming but wishing

i really did experience a lof of this poem
i really did write a poem in the dirt under
that bridge at night while listening to the

I Love that you can read in though something
of wonder and beauty too
I love the lines
"mans blood and womens tears"
for all the strife so many cry shed tears
etc great analogies

"the sky is weeping" etc etc
amazing this poetry stuff

thanks Longo my freind

author comment

OH how, o how can I now comment when you two bards with plumes of pure poetic grace and passionate dash, smite the page and dazzle us with your intense flourishes of phrase potent as poison, beautiful as crystals of ice, deep as the fathom-less seas, and send our minds ricocheting into the realms of great dramas and the real drama that life presents?

I cannot, and so shall not say more than to second Joe's comments on your poetry as comments you should be rightly proud of, and one's that will show you that you are a poet of great standing among the melee of peoples on this earth. Write on Steven and we shall love you the more.

You have mine, Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

Steven, you are sheer poetry, transparent and recognizable.

Thank you for being you.


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