
My pencil
strikes pages
life blinding cures
strike edges
forcing indelicate lines
into windows
where pure light
seldom shines.
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Pain
holds steadfast
anchored to World
like a fungus—
Is it reproducing
do you think—
or just hovering
closer
to our mega view?

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Who invited
a Presence
what content
lies inside
when did
it arrive
where in space
can it reside
why here
now
leaving when
How?
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One white stone
Black Sand beach
navigate steep narrow
for admission
waves
freed bodies
Watch
laughing sands
sun washes
over.
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You should keep writing
even if it’s not for sale
you ought to keep trying
to paint the sky
with your dreams.
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Step off
edge of the world
no abyss myth
concerns
footprints
soft like butterfly
round like honeybee
Romana rises
fire in wind
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Back to Winter
across the world
air drying membranes
expanded minds
withered souls.
Basement watchers crouch:
Miracles wanted here.
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Now in Paradise
passive Beauty reigns
feel it creep
like disease
along the paths
where spine erects
Serenity
I yearn for Chaos.
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A good day
begins with sunrise
birdsong
a soft blanket
quiet rooms
solace of the heart
lightness of being
anticipation of new.
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I keep thinking
of a gravemarker
there onshore
where to read
life collides with your jeopardy
sea rhythms cover us
again
and again.

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Pencil on paper. Images arise. Message received.