Permission for draft of requisition order
Civil war family heir
Destroyer class reconstructionism
Turn liberty up a notch for the western fleet
Fussy bonnet held us high
A destroyer class vessel is surplus
Afforded the documentation of drafting
Her pardon
Is not a priority
Abandon requires address
The 451 st Civil Affairs Battalion
The adjustment of languaging a building.
I come from this to you, as a published author of poetry books. In allowance of paper and address we aren't communicating for sun reasons? Limitations of equality?
451st Civil Affairs Battalion.pdf
Categories:
languaging, adventure, america, anniversary, art,
Form: Free verse
Languaging the place is happening
A voicestro of ideas
And involvement
Obstructing legislation
Command and finance
The handling of its own press
Pressing solutions
In the middle of a fraud
Yet in all time
A take part type of gal and guy
Suppose a person asked a city for funding around rent for themselves, an office, range of ten thousand a month
Today cresting 5 billion in debt of unauthorized hijacking of home development law
Categories:
languaging, allusion, america,
Form: Free verse
Who are we
in ego's deductive dark winter
decomposing fallen embryos
nurturing healthcare?
Who are we
springtime consumers of inductive light
and dark wet nights
nourishing ecstatically growing life systems?
Who are we
in diastatic summer's full regeneration,
bright light warm absorbing flows
of water's baptismal promise?
risk,
opportunity
for future replenishment?
Who are we
producing fall's winnowed harvests
branching
flowing
flying scattered seeds of time's intense dense integrity?
Advent of four-prime spiral seasons,
light's empowerment
balancing heart-root rhythmic systems
flowing Earth's nurturing river
of rich polycultural
polypathic
polymorphic becoming
Understory for Earth's Ground of Being,
RNA soil languaging DNA soul regenerators,
revolutions enfolding evolution's bilateral Tao way.
Categories:
languaging, earth, humanity, integrity, light,
Form: Free verse
How near nothing something comes.
It is saliva laced on lips, a litany
of winter trees holding the sky in.
We rise automatically, fondle the heat
on, hear our newspaper words fill the walls
like stale air as we axe frost
from the windshield of moon
warming up in the driveway.
Outside, the wind rears up on hind legs
and screams. But there is nothing,
no scratches, no blood, no dried spit
of hieroglyhics languaging the glass,
no ancient stories to base our deaths on,
to tell the grand kids when they're too old
to care, too young to see between the stars.
Categories:
languaging, angst, imagination, nature,
Form: Free verse