Short Ataraxia Poems

Let me hear wind's voice
     When it dance with grace
          Upon the leaves of the trees...

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in the morrow”s guardian cells
the blood carefully unfolds its branches
connecting life with the permeable walls
when the pressure seeks an elastic collision and
the constant flow animates the soul bursting into a state of
    inner serenity...

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Slicked back panther of pride
News of the town in which you reside.
Fall to the ground, gently but swift
Release your ego to fly quickly adrift.
Muddy your palms in the wake of the morn
As the person you were is carelessly torn.
Crawl to the well and give her your due
The bird that now walks forgot how he flew....

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My ataraxia, lost
Now exists a thought
troubling my mind, 
a thought of a grand poem 
imploring to be penned, 
a thought playing
the ho-hum game 
of hide and seek, 
a thought
appearing and disappearing 
like an amateur magician’s act, 
a thought like the others 
I end up writing about, 
A thought 
I must tirelessly
Scour my mind for, 
For that is 
a poet’s horror story
And I will finally
slay my ghost 
When I read that poem
written as it wanted to be -...

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