a little girl chose me from the crowded ground
she gave me a tiny flower
as her little sister sang a pop song about a universe
no doubt a gift from the great beyond
to wash away the midnight in my heart
crowded ground
Faith
high tail
it
could
go
either
way
no
heads
or
tails
this
time
i
will
walk
blindly
spread the WLS
truth tanka
i will wait silent
body heavy with living
my head yet holds up
with equal amounts of tears
just as many crooked smiles
spread the WLS
invitation
soft pink petals
wooden table top
lay there limp
looking up silently
at spinning fans
dried tired knuckles
on sore thighs
immobile in exhaustion
thinking there quietly
about roses aging
spirit’s sweet scents
mingling with walls
a memory landscape
then passing birds
bless the skies
curtains stay open
spread the WLS
prodigal tanka
*to Rob
nature in your soul
the light in your heart brightens
frozen in the wind
in low valleys of my world
your blue starlight captures me
spread the WLS
home stretch haiku
cup
tightly
like
a
momma
cat
firmly
cusp
my
soul
you
are
the
key
spread the WLS
magic haiku
it
is
there
tucked
in
the
breath
under
the
heart
of
love’s
magic
embrace
spread the WLS
two feathers
before this moment
i didnt want to kiss your lips
stroke your cheek or bury my pain in your hair
before the moon put on her gown to hide the scars paparazzied by the sun
i didn’t want to hide in that deep well of your warm strong arms for fear of being sold down that cold toxic emotional river
before you before tomorrow before my death two feathers from your wings fell into my poisoned dream turning them into golden keys opening a paradise
spread the WLS
angelic script three ways
spread the WLS
when will the saints
since the gases of The Breath began to stir laying star mosaic highway to my Earth i have stood here with the Mothers see our skin with every deep trench within lies a simple truth no matter how those eyes may look at it those evergreens beyond man’s streets will make their way to find me i the omnipotent Mother armored in degrees of time so tempered holding on to blades of grass and crooning birds the smiles of ghosts prophets who are strangers and now it is my time the holy Breath she comes on flames attire placing the finishing touches before i’m ushered softly silently diligently into a tomb of slumber
