Far across the bridge, way against the strong tides
Drifts a lonely yacht, lonely, under my watch
The sailor, one missy adorned in silver stripes
Bearing herself, her focus and a flaming torch
A wild breeze forms creases 'pon the face of the waters
Set at naught, at nought she was set
A mild tempest rocks her row into hiccuping flutters
Ahead, ahead she looks on with no pity nor fret
Nature wars with her in her empty space
As the waves crash, she sails on with grace
With a spirit untamed and a heart filled with fire
She lets the winds guide her, treasure island to acquire
We are our hope in the multitudes of chaos
We are our anchor when the world gets so cold
The chances we take when against all odds
Become a notion as our matters unfold
"sunrise, sunset"
crickets hiccuping
in the day
or is it night?
my eyes are closed
The whole while I wrote my letter naked
With my blood I cut each word deep
And made I but one step from my desk
dropped it subway
Like a useless undergarment
Sewn of toilet paper, destitute of the sewer
Stepped on it with mud, a furious matador
A newborn gospel, straight to the congress
Naked then I walked, bouncing, my buttocks hiccuping
And aping ding-dong bells, vegetative anger
Passing by baffled men, starved of piety
Gawking with their garments
Faithfully tucked in their groove
Speaking in tantalizing tongues
Of learned men, calling me a witch
Lest they without sin throw the stones
I sped back to my day as the night crept
To pick my garment, my linen
Cover my nakedness and scream
A man of letters is here
Count me.
Tears dying on my cheeks
Song ringing in my ears
Sobs still hiccuping in my chest
Eyes still softly leaking tears.
But there will be a happy ending
There will be a brighter day
There will be sunshine on my shoulders
And sweeter things to say.
I will have a place where I belong
And friends who will keep in touch
I'll have a brighter future
And promises will mean much.
I will somehow make it through this
Even if I have to walk alone
But I'll make it; I'm almost there
Somehow, I'll make it home.
There's consolation in knowing
the rise and fall of angles;
the whorled tempests of
alpha and omega.
Liquid vowels
and hiccuping consonants
curiously curled around
the pith of visions.
Silent expressions
circumcised by dots,
paused by chubby tadpoles
that pollinate fertile thoughts
with deliberate moments.
Hyphenated hybrids
capture imagination
in new-sprung, cursive concepts.
But Oh! How I love
the silent ellipses,
the endless music of
The End...
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