when i live
crafting these poems of words i
forge my peace with
language
the sun burns on
imprinting shadows
and the dreams oh
the feelings anchored to thoughts
keep me dreaming
as i type across
our time and
space
Tag Archives: writing
WIP.2020
Here’s an excerpt from my WIP (work in progress):
“The night hung heavy and winter would not wait. The days grew shorter and colder in Chicago. We haunted an apartment wedged between others on a long city block not far from Division, the four of us. The whole block seemed to shake every time a train passed by. Factory chimneys exhaling smoke, incessant sounds. What I loved about the city was how it’s so alive. There was all kinda weather coming through, winds blasting across Lake Michigan for days. Early snow subsided to rain, and all the kids on their way to school pushed gleefully through the puddles. Skyscrapers stood tall among the trees. The vertical life in Chicago in obvious contradiction to the system of streets and rails. All diversity of people caught up in all diversity of things, twenty four hours a day. Altogether it made for a life you would not wanna miss.”
– Katya Mills
the self sets the limits
the spirit and soul is shining underneath, waiting to break out of the rock that conceals it, out of darkness for us to see and believe. meanwhile the world goes on waiting for you to arise. will you ever? the tarnished lack in a rusty controlled mechanical sort of perfection with an intellectual hook demands a miraculous effort. most are pulled out of the path of life and retired, subservient to other forces, equally bad as good, fenced in by unnatural designs. oh! the self-set limits of life experience. and very well worth living and dying for!
stun.gun
you were stunning
they were gunning
to meet you
if only they knew
what they were walking
into
reading #251
boiled coffee mixed with cream
this morning i am jumping jacks
boiled coffee
mixed with cream
this morning is the day
you came into this world and
i am calling you
my kitten an alarm clock and
got me out of bed
i cook for you and me
the tibetan bell
the heartbeat
the love of my life
on the road again
i cannot count my blessings
but
i can sit here at my desk
beat up the old english
language for a while
all what makes life @ 46
worth living
