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WHAT TO PAY February 21, 2014

Posted by brownsweaters in poetry.
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What to pay for a glimpse inside your thought?

How much time, how much effort, when to end?

No doubt riches there will reward all effort.

Oh the pleasure of touching the source of you.

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VICARIOUS EGO November 17, 2012

Posted by brownsweaters in poetry.
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It stood there on the page

Vicarious Ego

With all the pomp of a Latin phrase

Shouted gladly at gladiator games.

 

Or a Peruvian child,

Weak and shivering,

With parents walking the streets

Shouting, “Vico, Vico, where are you?”

 

But neither matched the inglorious truth,

The process bringing the two together,

The understanding – with ego’s involvement,

All thoughts and actions are vicarious.

 

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Understanding The Numbers November 14, 2012

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After most posts I place a number.  The most recent had this:  0017110812

Here’s what it means.  A part of it is the day I did the post.  Since it was posted on November 8th, the 110812 is obvious.  Sometimes the date is the first 6 digits, sometime the last 6.  Either way, it’s usually obvious.  The other 4 numbers  – the 0017 – are numbers I sequentially assign to my poetry.  I am currently on poem number 3497.  That means the poem I posted on the 8th was written a LONG time ago, or 3480 poems ago.  I do this so I can keep track of when (and if)  I posted a poem.  So nothing cryptic, just an attempt at organization (I don’t always remember).  Thanks for reading.

MORE STREAM November 8, 2012

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She’s running down the hall now, every so often pulling her hands

to her face in a combination of panic, and fear and love.  She sees a

light in the distance and at last feels free enough to lower her arms

to her side.  She stops.  Come here, she thinks, come to my side.

 

He looks down the hall and sees her standing there, arms loosely at

her side, an expression of openness about her.

 

Each takes a step towards the other.

 

His are crisp and direct and straight forward with a certain

purposefulness as heels hit the floor in a rhythmic staccato.

 

Her steps are breezes of fog across an early morning lake.  Sun from

an eastern source illuminates her, a backlit glow surrounds her,

each slow-motion step bringing her closer to him, still gently,

still gracefully.

 

He falls to his knees as she comes within reach.  He lowers his head,

tucking his chin far into his chest, exposing the back of his neck,

exposing his soul for her to see.

 

She reaches out, billowing fabric draping from her arms and flowing

as a hawk might soar high

above ancient trees.

 

He trembles seeing her so close, close enough to touch and take into

his arms

and surround himself with her forever.

 

She kneels in front of him, placing her hands on his head,

feeling his hair, his warmth,

the trembling of anticipation.

 

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SENSES April 5, 2012

Posted by brownsweaters in poetry.
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To see one star,

I see the universe.

To touch your heart,

I am touched.

 

ALLOWED TO SEE September 17, 2011

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Allowed to see daylight today

And I squint at reality

Illuminated with sun so

Bright it reawakens that

Part of me they thought

Had died.

 

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TASTE August 15, 2011

Posted by brownsweaters in poetry.
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One second’s worth of stupidity

Covers breakfast as if fresh maple syrup,

And you reject my offers of tea.

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HUGGED August 15, 2011

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Hugged by the sound of passing birds

A sunny respite

Amid tangled branches.

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COMING TO ME NOW August 15, 2011

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All the words I need are coming to me now.

Every noun, every scene,

All the scripted dialogue.

My only task is to write what I see.

But I so enjoy the words

I keep them close to me.

 

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FOR AMY July 25, 2011

Posted by brownsweaters in poetry.
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And the pin pressed

Just enough

To pierce and pain and

Brought on moments

Of

Wild riding through starry skies.

But I knew

As I collapsed – I knew

With everything pressing in

Physics and eternity and god

All working as they should –

I knew.

I believed.

I had stretched with the reality

That

The ride was worth it.

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