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....