COMING HOME

 

when you find some one dead
there is a nexus between your mind
thinking, knowing they are alive,
then realizing they are firmly deceased,
there could be no denying it.

that cross-over, that switch
is ferocious in its speed,
but heavier than block lead,
it is a bewilderment.

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DON’T MUSE TOO MUCH

her dimples,
to kiss them,
pour wine in them
and drink,
lap from them,
a harmless dog,
yielding.

those sea eyes,
thumb to brush hair from them,
cradle the wide world gently,
her celestial conglomerate,
my shelter,
her safe
angelic cosmos.

scanning seas,
green-blue or neither,
some new shade
nature never thought
to create.

soul, struggle,
that musical ghost,
spring through chest,
carry her through time.