Tag: narrative

∴
rise
to heart’s call
footfalls asters filled
pulse blossoms
freedom mellifluous
∴

∴ upon dragons’ backs
through nimbus nebulae
no blade clasped
but heart knotted in labyrinthine vines

once stood stalwart
now a fledgling bard
wayward in hazed
and unsung ballads

no clear beacons’ shine
pierce the night abyss
or if they do
deem me a fool

venturing further
into the mists uncertainty

amongst dragons and clouds
and on into the night ∴

∴ whirl of serendipity
‘neath the tumultuous grasp
of the serpentine sky
ardor’s blaze cinders to flame
refusing to be extinguished
by the storm’s wrath
with each crescendo
an insatiable longing arises
a primal need
to taste the sweetness of your lips
and your gravitational pull
draws me closer ∴

∴ i hailed a Fiat¹ taxi
to the diner at dawn
where clattering cents fill the air
and memories, like die-cast
some patrons wore
etched by the toll of time

no need to tally my cash
the sound of change jingled
in my pockets and my socks

at the counter, i scanned the menu
flavors swirl before me
mint julep, too early for such luxury
so i settle for silver-dollar pancakes
a bite of yesteryears

in the corner
a couple exchanging
their counterfeit kisses
faux and shallow treasure
as their own wandering
eyes look elsewhere
lost in their own distractions
priceless

coffee’s copper hues
and steam rising from teas
accompanied by music
from the jukebox
worth a paltry nickel
moments purchased
with more than mere coin ∴

1. playing with a Fiat auto and fiat currency here ↩︎

∴ he’s forest kin, with leaves as sleeves
lupine lope in the arcane of his gaze¹
guided by constellations’ midnight score
on winding paths, his journey lays

strong he stands, amidst the verdant wild |
but falters briefly at the thief of hearts
no title claimed, yet love she wields
and truths unmasked in adoration’s arts

her presence, bold and steadfast
a guide through moonlit nights we fly
marvelous magic in the adoration she casts |
embers of love, tenderly she stokes ∴

1. As I engaged in a Native American repatriation project alongside the Lakota people, the Medicine Woman’s words echoed with unexpected depth. ‘Your soul is very old,’ she remarked, seemingly out of context. Yet, her words transcended mere conversation, resonating beyond the museum consultation. In that moment, a connection deeper than words formed, leading the Lakota to extend me invitations beyond our initial agreement. Her words linger within me, along with the memories of our shared experiences, a testament to her wisdom and the bonds forged in our time together. ↩︎

∴ Quixotic blooded, chasing dreams
can’t catch a wink, tired it seems
but in her limbs and leaves, i now rest
a tree’s bow, my solace, my nest
no bargains struck, no worldly deal
just nature’s sweet love, my lifelong seal ∴