Introspection Innocence Poems

It's partial to Winter's bark gloom and weed bite—
Then comes Spring with his light massaging through stone,
In cold spots along her dark towering spine—
That lovers...

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Winter with thoughtful wings slips upon
When her voice is too frail to hold life—
Everywhere green, this light she's from;
In gentleness back the forest bites,
As feathery...

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Under childish thumb
   picking dandelion teeth
stained in ochre crumb....

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do we compare rhythm of heartbeats 
brazen breeze grazing gentle trees
scents that will bent, made heart relent
which hue of dew does joy release

a peacock dances...

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The rote shivery wind is Winter's maid—
she breaks heart to own the season's floor;
via frost's degrees in my throat,
while my glean lancet's chills burn.
I tape...

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When is the totality,
for the city shake
of shoulders—
meant to pick a
tulip from its smile?

The moment she's pulled
from her planet
reveries— she writhes 
and slowly droops,
her face,...

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Gray evening's like gray dawn's ties thicken
At the exact same pacing expanse—
Both briefly hold the sun's motions in
Pallor moored with unmistakableness.
I am shaken by her...

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heaven on its knees, drop by drop
sprinkling like sweat 
from our skies' bruised brow,
pouring out the macadam in my scars—
following floods race my tears' deja...

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Fall 
Whether 
broken— there
our veins are joint;
by leaves that saturate the ground with new

beauty that I walk through cracking myself
on gems, but soft—
Whether the
weather
breaks....

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From deep melancholy
I can see things are still moving.
Droning buildings, persons and some
pales of persons (inside), animal airs,
and walking phantasms yearning 
to be beautiful.

It all...

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An opening's gap
Construed as silver lining's
Lack— not wings; just blue stupor—
Clouds spinning circles.
Still crowns kings; a wisp of rain
Falls in brief— in heaven's clasp.

Why must...

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I read your lips,
not fooled by the disguise
between the lines.
Intent was actual
in what was actioned,
not faked in lines of lies
about beliefs.
Nor of being an innocent,
misled...

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Mine heart isn't made of glass;
It isn't made of steel. 
For it's made of beating flesh—
Warm, sentient, and real.

It's its own planet within 
other worlds—
Still,...

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A flare up for help—
Waving to Earth. Says: what 
Could make an orbit
Go so cold?

The deep shine
Coughs in motion,
From its lust where
Its being gets caught...

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It's raw on bark—
Showing it how to feel.
Leaves shudder from under the clouds,
Seen at last.

(All it wants to do now is
Get through to hang up...

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