Sometimes More Is Less
Sometimes more is less –
like, overworking a painting,
blurring the eye-feast with an
excess of dabs and strokes, a
mix reminding me of too deeply
breathed tokes; or a poem, with
a vomit of words – nixing participation
for the reader, the mental pecks
he came for, like a bird at a
mystical feeder, that odd-ball
supplier, limping away on one
good leg, a strange god in
unnatural, featherless attire, yet
a bird in heart, but not quite the
airborne flier~he dreams...
I pause, at the lit-edge of clouds...
content to linger, and simply
wonder of the beaming linings,
careful not to invade; I stop,
at the visual, velveteen texture
of roses, keeping my distance,
inhaling the intoxicating wafts
while restraining my hand of
usual dissection – like the surging
of your love, freely given~allowing
me my private melt, as I, you, an
intimate journey into uncharted
bliss....
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