Thursday, November 19, 2009

The Muse Conversations Pt 36,37 & 38


Everything seems like it is seamed together
merging in the middle of a canvas stitch
and it took me all this time to move you
it took me all this time to find you feathers
and what is it like to be moved by you
from somewhere close to the middle of everything.

That everything tarpaulin swings and says it sways
someplace off the kilter laughing, and could you tell me
anything blue without your eyes,
that everything melody singing smiles childlike
talking around circles and mouth me lips
that everything true sunshine says very little
about the middle of just being sewn like a seesaw
horse as it is galloping nowhere the way you say it.

Everything is just happening yesterday today
the hours spelling minutes and seashells listening
to the waters wading wave on the horizons brow,
and it took me all this time just to meet you in the middle
of everything and you whispered it was nothing doors
opening and it took me this long just to tell you
and find you in the middle of everything.


Your lily skin ghosts that brush against my shores
calling me from my angels sleep, beckoning me nearer,
your doors my tears, my edges and fears,
I am not hiding anymore.
Your tiger flesh of magic carpet rides, your desert
oasis summoning me closer, to touch and hold,
to sink my kisses pomegranate, to stay
and embrace.
Your lily tides of flowing white garments,
your apparition of scarlet pink skin, wrapping me,
enveloping my ebbing words, waving goodbye,
and saying hello.
I am not hiding anymore, I feel your sky,
swim in your deep blue ocean, I soak in your radiant
sun, I graze in your yellow fields.
Tomorrow is a promise, today a wish
and yesterday was blissful orange, your lily white
tigers, calling me like a ghost.


The more I lose me, the more I find you
waiting in the lattice of the day, a trellis smile
laughing blue, a cloud of sunshine white and silver lined,
waiting upon a stars brow shining.
The more I lose me, the more I find you
watching a moonbeam manta ray swim, a wave wading
minutes sensual, a tide flowing over my flesh pink,
watching hours speak silent words.
The more I lose me, the more I find you
wondering fields green lazy hammock Sundays,
wandering white truth lines, crossing my fences,
posting kisses in the email mail boxes.
The more I lose me, the more I find you
lingering like linen, silky lace and lavender
loitering hours like laundry on a line wind blown
and happy, rejuvenated like air.
The more I lose me, the more I find you
hoping like a child, innocent and playing
like recess, skipping a heartbeat and wishing
joy and beauty, hoping that you find me to.

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