fLying

steps emerge forward sliding through like shelves, each precise with its pages of characters in uniform, prepared to swing the sword or scramble underneath a shield of weight. with each step, a new drama dreams, complicating the sorrow and numbing the tired legs. the fog is cold. the ground is far. the top is blurring. the climbing must stop, the ending must fall, to fly freely, of the lies that step, step, step

INhale

these days sleep on aoristic beds. daedal daisies on the covers warms trust underneath her pillow. as she sleeps, a fyke catches her dreams, night after night. the seeds remain, growing an olio of petals in the hollowness. morning after morning, though her eyes open without sight, her heart begins to awaken with grok.

feel

"it's weal", the girl said
"real", the boy asked
"yes it is real happiness" expressed the vibrations through the sky down to the ground for his heart to feel. "it is weal"

see-sons

"decaying leaves fall off
catching butterflies"

the feeling is raw. it is bare. and yet there remains layers and layers... as it is when we speak

;

planets retrograde in motion, gaining momentum to shoot far over the highest bridge, crushing the eyes to reach the orbiting light. ex-plo-sion

order

the design is paradisiacal yet it is the visceral that coruscates true beauty. its
brilliance glows within the arms of love.

a GOODbye

"Jhwh, Jhwh, Jhwh"

within You
the vastness lures me
yet destroys me
feeling the lightness of feathers
spreading everywhere
faintly breathing
transparently slipping
as drops of water
into the Palm of the Sea

war

atramentaceous bullets fire with the trigger of his thirsty lips, exploding the muscular pear-shaped troops. cardinal forces weep in gunpowder, igniting attacks onto fields of snow. the innocent wander with holes, depleting into ghosts. the tainted mix metals in their tanks, as the blues sob, meandering in search of peace

ode

"canta, canta, canta corazon"


better than nepenthe, it helped her remember feelings of home. and within this there was never mania. there was no rush to be anywhere, to do anything, or to be anyone; it was a feeling of a moment that extended with gentleness and simply brought the hues closer. more natural than her skin, it was a feeling that equaled her in one. an accumulation, like a ball of yarn whose drawn all its thread together, that round yet concrete feeling of a peaceful awakening. it grew with a soft strength, weaving her legs into roots, holding her eyes from falling over and synthesizing her tremor into a serenade.

web

the plane collapses in four, dividing the passengers in segments whose sum will make the distance of the line but for now will march in rows, aligning with those above and below simultaneously. a bow is tied with each, drawing circles in space to spin, giving the appearance of a breeze, which is really a connection of many. together closely moving, it is the phrases that push the arrows further west and quiet stillness that plays harmoniously within and throughout

inside

wooden doors swing through, teasing the eyes to wander, blowing bright colors in scarves, brushing her lashes that frame the peep hole of the doors. standing in movement, she feels the compass running into directions, opening past transits and extending its roads across forming space. pieces slide together as memories disappear, giving her the golden entrance. she turns around quickly to shut herself in only to realize there was no door; it was her

coquette

nada no mas silencio
puro silencio
nada en mi

me haces reir
como sales
de lado
y te busco
para solo encontrar
el vacio de
tu lado

nada sin nada
deja los lados

considera

sin empezar moriste
en creer en la mentira
regresa no para vivir
no para sobrevivir
ni para seguir
solo
solo
solo
por
Ti

aprendete

la luz llega sin respido. la luz se prende sin fuerza. la luz brilla sin caricias. la luz por ser luz, vive sin vivir.

forward

the candles linger, burning her sight in red. shadows expand their form, hold their breath to ache her heart. though she can feel their fright, her vision rests in a place far from where her exhale begins. here and there, her attendance is accounted for, with marked points to allow access past the gates. she stays everywhere, with the agreement of brief encounters. movement is oxygen. and her strings must remain free, to pull the others together. any part that stops, turns the flow in contrary angles, causing disruption to the symphony that plays in your heart.

reality

its madness. how a fleeting dark car can pass and pull me into its weight, where i open the truck and place myself in, allowing it to lock me hostage through the end of the night. and usually when the sun arises, i remember i have the key to get out. tragedy, irony, comedy

stationary

she likes the way the creek flows through their eyes. its force calls her name. listening attentively, she falls into it, spiraling into blurry temperatures for seasons at a time. the cycle continues again and again. drenched in defeat, the flow of gases catches her innocence, hanging her to dry with the white linens on a summer afternoon.

before its sway can pull her again, rugged rope ties her ankles to the hidden corners of earth. her ears are plugged with ringing oceans and lotus petals bury her rods and cones. she is still current.

with time, stability forms near her ribs, strengthening the arched dam by her crown. her channels flow swiftly, like the gliding flock of birds that drink from her streams. elliptical arms amplify waves, massaging nadir to rise with zenith, arranging crest waves to circulate time.

necklace

sequence chains loosen threaded knots. needles at first glance cut the skin only to pierce through the pain. deep within shades of darkness, sleeps an amber clasp, protecting a jewel. its radiance magnetically embraces the pupa. all around its glow, flows osculating feelers, sparking fate into polaroids for all to wear...

play

accordion lines collapse into her lungs, expanding her body in expression, pouring tides of tones through her pallets, while bringing semi-colons to rest. some days, she plays pitches that force the ground to hover under shades of safety. but it's only when she listens that her articulation resonates in lullabies. afraid of the stark contrast, she removes the straps to the box. holding her fragile fingers, she sits in silence. it's a blackout in loneliness; until she remembers she is the instrument. her signature is not within the sounds. she must simply let the songs play, play, play on and through

choose

stars

feeling so easily; blind in discriminating waves, accepting and absorbing the lightness and darkness equally, overlapping in four, quadrupling in grids, dissolving matter as dots scattered across the evening sky.

fly

i can see my patterns. i can see the fight. i can see the distance, i push myself, from the light. i have a way that brings me down. it kicks and screams, and shields the night. its dark with force and dwells in growth. without words, it closes doors. i do not know, why, i am this way. i am the knife and the movement within its slice. how can this be, i ask? or is it Shiva coming to end my time? and suddenly it feels to slip on its other side. and the light stands right, inside to guide the tide that washes through, to free, to free, to free the child all the way to be, a ball of light. and with every wave, i exhale its tail and claws or outer costume frock. it leaves me softer, calmer and brighter with delight. the rhythm sings of the same beat. yet with every wave, it feels as cain but in truth it is more, more than me, more than us, more than i imagine it to be. because only love could patiently continue to stay with me, through the changing ways. and only love could cleanse through walls of pain. and only love can hold me still. yes it is more. it must be, it is, definitely, God's love, for all, to be

free

it was elevated. it was a story, sketched into the rocks, drizzling pinkness into the sky. it played with the sea, turning circles inwardly to stand so still. like a shooting star, it flew into the dawn and existed by night. an embrace, cracking the shell and opening the heart enough to feel past the breaking waves, past the childhood dreams to the deepness of why it came to be. this feeling, this shift, melting desire to be so quiet, so quiet, so quiet in the tumbling of the storm. and as it parts, its magnificent Light shines, bringing me to fall, in a sweet humbleness to be so near, so near, so near. and the rest seems to rest as it was never meant to be. and it's no longer about me but more so about Thee. perfect lotuses spinning in love, so free, so free, so free

yin-yang

i used to feel you inside my blood, like a venom sucking the light from within. i felt you so close, sliding through and crashing upon my fragile bones with hammer strokes. i felt so weak to your impulse. i felt a slave inside a cage. i held my breath, paralyzed from the knees. And despite the sea, the clouds, the feeling of love, i could not find the strength to move. i imagined you to be a ruthless beast. but today i see your face. and its beautiful.

ants

the abstract patterns on this dress slips from my shoulders. i can no longer hide within the lace. i am so raw. so exposed to the dark claws that creep up my legs that try to pull me into its mouth. but free from the ruffles and over-volume-sphere like skirts, its eyes are clear and suddenly i can't help but laugh for its tinier than i thought. and in the joy of this surprise, it shrinks beneath my feet. and i can breathe. i can be free from the weight, i hid beneath, underneath my wings. i can fly higher. and i see how it was never quite me.

peAcZ

the grassy meadows free from lines or tall armor fly freely in every direction. its a meeting, a joining, a blending for every inch to raise high enough and then low enough to circle around and stay so clear, so near until the point of falling into one. and this happens again and again like the clover to renounce the very essence of our petals. and the motion sings sweeter than before, rejoicing to be for Thee, the Alpha and Omega with no break in between.

ticking

it simply is
clear as light
sweet as love
is the only
truth
that shall forever
be

remember

subebajasubebajas

it's true
what rises falls
but what falls also rises
don't fear the fall

post

burning waves cover her eyes as orange drops. the heat slowly melts her bones to bend, to fade into crisp pages of a story. no longer afraid, she sits within its flame. growing patience, she curls into the yellow...

One-der

numbers stand together aligning her fortune with the master of ceremonies. even her breath is whispered into her. all is aqueous in nature. so close. yet she misses again and again her star but this too would be given, ringing appreciation in sonorous strings to be played again and again for her to remember.

clear

an aerial bud blinks.
the aurora compasses, compressing aluminum, disintegrating torpedo. it pins dander. with concave blades, sundering past the remembrance, the radiation burns, annihilating gardens. the tears bare hollow alcoves in strawberry marks. saluting on point, near fallen banana leaves, she diffuses into the axis. traversing past compositions to a gentle reflection of blankness, spiraling in adulation, a bud blooms for Thee

rest.withpeace

nebulous stains her ruffled skirt as scrawny branches tag along, puncturing holes in her cream stockings. with the drizzle her eyes smear, appearing more like holes filled with slimy worms. the soil scrapes her cheeks, as its root sew the lining between her rosy lips, revolving around her delicate neck. with a mechanical stance and shovel at hand, she walks, submerging her satin slippers in a mud that pulls. passing cemented memories held in squared boxes, floating below whirling winds, she walks. she walks. she walks until her knees become part of the cliff's edge. smiling at beauty, the sea, she grabs the shovel and continues to bury her aerie.

sun

cushion

core

inside

flow

horizical

a

a single space steps slightly south shrinking stopping sinking noticing north numbers numbing nuclear nonlinear nights filling folding falling finite follicles flowing feeling fires rising running rivers rushing under undivided umbrellas lifting lightly long lingering lines lovingly a

fly

chaos flaps its wings, pushing over mountains and pencils to land on their side, giving us the land to step with courage or fright. hands spill over, reaching in, to bring out the light, reminding us of our true kite; to choose to love rather than to fight. its a movement, where the tiny can make it right, by remembering the True Source of Love and Light.


chaos is beautiful

all

green tips point to the charts that spin like ferris wheels, blowing seeds with their parachutes across blue skies. the daedal hand lines up the birds as arrows to lead the way as they catch the falling bulbs, resting them in warm soil.

key

a door stands, leaning on arched wooden roots, with branches that bend, looking for her. her round polished black rocks laced in pink, splash through waters. she runs, hearing the sounds of the forest, seeing the shadows blend with the darkness of the sky, she runs. yellow fishes suck her weight, leaving her feet free to feel the soil of the earth. she runs

until her breath stops. a silence awakens her heart, as she stands before it. the tree feels her and through the peep hole embraces her in and quickly thereafter erases.