Blown about as leaves from some forgotten plant;
Lives lived between gusts.
Cast as seeds beneath shadows of finely-tended orchids
From whose chiffon petals dewdrops slip.
At times such seeds burst into stunning, sturdy green things;
Tendrils winding, tender offshoots issuing forth thorns of portent;
Where spires of amsonia, petunia, and strelitzia there burgeoned,
It yielded a final bouquet.
For Shylah G. Anderson and Fred D. Bax
......
In a small room, in the afternoon, as you close the door.
An open window, casts its bright vibrant shadows, onto the soft carpeted floor.
In the plight, of the night, As you stroll the streets of New Paltz.
A small Bombay cat, shines its blackened furry silhouette, onto the stark smothered asphalt.
You take for granted the complexity, of the objective subjectivity, You beg and plead, that you need, more due to its simplicity.
The beauty of duality, though an illusion it is truly. Open your eyes, pray the divine, take mercy on ur piety.
Time that lacks contour, a longer text without substance is exchanged for the concentrate
Maybe the flow wants to lose itself in itself
Unrelated words seem to make sense or if it is just sentences that seems to create structure
It does not mean anything
Nothing is a funny word, out of nothing came everything
What is then really the beginning? Nothing is no longer reliable
A draw back, the same eternal thought, eternal thought
A universe's dragging inexorably lost
Let it be said a friend, just let it be, you lose yourself
Then I laughed, it’s funny, real funny
......
Blown about as leaves from some forgotten plant;
Lives lived between gusts.
Cast as seeds beneath shadows of finely-tended orchids
From whose chiffon petals dewdrops slip.
At times such seeds burst into stunning, sturdy green things;
Tendrils winding, tender offshoots issuing forth thorns of portent;
Where spires of amsonia, petunia, and strelitzia there burgeoned,
It yielded a final bouquet.
For Shylah G. Anderson and Fred Bax
......
In a small room, in the afternoon, as you close the door.
An open window, casts its bright vibrant shadows, onto the soft carpeted floor.
In the plight, of the night, As you stroll the streets of New Paltz.
A small Bombay cat, shines its blackened furry silhouette, onto the stark smothered asphalt.
You take for granted the complexity, of the objective subjectivity, You beg and plead, that you need, more due to its simplicity.
The beauty of duality, though an illusion it is truly. Open your eyes, pray the divine, take mercy on ur piety.
Blown about as leaves from some forgotten plant;
Lives lived between gusts.
Cast as seeds beneath shadows of finely-tended orchids
From whose chiffon petals dewdrops slip.
At times such seeds burst into stunning, sturdy green things;
Tendrils winding, tender offshoots issuing forth thorns of portent;
Where spires of amsonia, petunia, and strelitzia there burgeoned,
It yielded a final bouquet.
For Shylah G. Anderson and Fred Bax
......
Blown about as leaves from some forgotten plant;
Lives lived between gusts.
Cast as seeds beneath shadows of finely-tended orchids
From whose chiffon petals dewdrops slip.
At times such seeds burst into stunning, sturdy green things;
Tendrils winding, tender offshoots issuing forth thorns of portent;
Where spires of amsonia, petunia, and strelitzia there burgeoned,
It yielded a final bouquet.
For Shylah G. Anderson and Fred D. Bax
......
Time that lacks contour, a longer text without substance is exchanged for the concentrate
Maybe the flow wants to lose itself in itself
Unrelated words seem to make sense or if it is just sentences that seems to create structure
It does not mean anything
Nothing is a funny word, out of nothing came everything
What is then really the beginning? Nothing is no longer reliable
A draw back, the same eternal thought, eternal thought
A universe's dragging inexorably lost
Let it be said a friend, just let it be, you lose yourself
Then I laughed, it’s funny, real funny
......