Category Archives: Uncategorized

Fleeting ~ Full Moon Social

It would not be a full moon social without Sister Madly!…

Sister Madly's avatarThe Sixpence at Her Feet

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It is nothing short of madness
That’s been laid to rest

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Here, it began
And here, it will last ~

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A realization
That comes so cruel

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That something was created
As momentarily as you.

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Images by: Leonid Tishkov

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| Are You Thrilled on WordPress.com

Pleasant Street got this #fullmoonsocial going earlier this morning…enjoy…

 

I need a friend veracious and true I offer my hands, and a knack for speaking in blue if you steal the moon for me I won’t tell on you

Source: | Are You Thrilled on WordPress.com

Love and Sleep

Love and Sleep

We lay here on the edge with a handful
of words not knowing when it will come

upon us and knowing when it comes
(the words will be left to stand guard)

it will be without knowledge
of us and without us knowing it has come

then the skidding slippery acceleration
then the slow wholeness of a moon passing overhead

*

most of our memories congregate here on its borders
but are not allowed inside we remember

gaining it we remember losing it
rubbing our eyes with the shock of its absence

we lay here not wanting to forget a thing
but to enter it is to forget

the weight of everything else

*

we wonder sometimes what really happened

when we were there and the answer is always
much more than that happened

the loss of context that puts all into context
the details of our days all birds and sand

I have given up trying to remember anything
more detailed than that wing of a smile

but even when we know we will never lose each other
we cannot stop the alarm it is in another world after all

so here on the edge we gather with our words
the words listen for us and try to remember

while we’re gone and to hum the song
we were singing once we’re gone

Still Life

Still Life

In the walnut branches the birds of September begin to gather.
Late August. Empty chairs. My mind’s dinner guests.

The woman who bought the house next door pulled up the ivy
on the property line, and with it tore the bird-hollow branches

of the butterfly bush from their roots. And with that
the flying leaves of fall whose nature is not to fall will not

find my front yard. They who could bear thoughts of enormous weight
over great distances. Now I must take this thought

far up in the sky, where this poem will cast the shape
of it, its shadow only, on your mind’s green ground.

I am exhausted, ready to drop it all, when I see
I am carrying nothing. Down below you have found

a perfect place to plant a butterfly bush. It’s late August.
On the back patio the empty chairs await the arriving guests.