Flushed with the forbidden
Flushed with the forbidden, grasping for words,
fiction unfolds on a black and white background,
never imagining the imagined–
serifs revealing surf reveling and taboo touching.
Torn from truth, I cry post-humusly,
growing knowledge, shrinking discretion–
time and wisdom redeem,
afraid to listen to souls and the Spirit,
for this fantasy would cease addicting,
creativity impressing, and sunlight refreshing,
words dance seductively in mind’s dark,
too scared to play a part;
for cowards of great deeds
are often craven in the weeds–
thankfully.
An emotional dilettante is about to tear
An emotional dilettante is about to tear and tear.
Yes. I, the lackey of logic, care,
Unstable as a rocky, cliff-side crag,
Feeling the free-fall- depressed and sad.
Hug me, for I will fall in love with falling:
Craving you, unchecked as a city sprawling.
Right now - irrational as the root of two
Quiet outside, but it’s just a rue.
Underneath the tractors are churning
Above fields of manure turning
A bag of weeds and seeds into a farm
That without plague or swarm
Will harvest bountiful fruit and wheat
Until in the sky we meet.