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I see myself in light and shadow.
I wipe away “always and never” like spilled water,
when the paradox bothers me.

I dissolved my soft boundaries,
in the name of unreal faith.
So many places, so many faces,
yet another beginning.
I keep rolling a big stone beside others.
The home I dreamt of now exists in my world.

I have found this time, this place
describing what cannot be translated:
a room for uncertainty,
farewells and returns.

I like to stand in the last row,
to see tired bodies.
I whisper good words,
to make the world a little better.
My sovereignty is a willingness
to be an echo,
the symbol, the myth,
or a meaningless element
in the chain of woven stories.

I love metaphors.
I find myself in a forest of ellipses,
that bring unbearable truths.

Tensions, contradictions,
awareness that everything that lights
brings unseen weight.

I am a part of stories,
to vanish into oblivion—
the done past.

The Earth still breathes with me,
or without me,
among blooming linden trees.
So, I want to stay,
to open my eyes,
and be with what remains.
To my Father
waterfalls......stones
fall and break.......roll and roll
into one.......break into pieces
flow.......scatter
without stagnation.......without moss
to survive.
I leave it to you with fondness.

How you used to fill it on those lazy Sundays
with fresh blooms from the neighbor's garden.

You would blame the kids from across
the street and we'd laugh
as their dad chased them around the yard
with a belt.

And when they would die, as they were wont to do,
you'd replace them with your paranoid
king's fiddlesticks.

He'd come out of the castle in a dither.

But you always convinced him
it was the handiwork of little green men
--who looked very much like
the kids from across the street.

Ah, remember the fire and how we danced?

Yes, my dearest captive
--the face that launched a thousand ships--

I leave it to you with only the warmest sentiments.

Love, Paris.
Hot heavy air fills the sky
No breeze to feel
Wind chimes silent in the wind

Windows open searching for something, anything light and breezy
Nighttime starting to come against the grey dark sky

Temperatures will start to drop
Doors open hoping to cool the air

Green and grey against the canvas of nature

Things starting to slow down in preparation for the night to come

Hoping to feel the coolness against the skin as the day ends and night comes
True animal story

One-legged seagull
sat on the roof near the chimney
it was a male gull, its feather
worn like he had been
in a battle and needed a rest
when my dog  noticed the bird,
she barked the gull
shrieked, hate at first sight,
but for a truce
When the dog ignored
its presence and
the bird stopped  teasing her
the kitchen had a flat roof
in the morning, the bird had flown
the dog picked at her food
on Sunday, she listened to the sermon  
when the dog heard the priest say
something about angels
the dog knowingly wagged her tail
weeping purple leaves
bowing her curly tight head
swinging lithe limbs
singing in shadows old

time hymns. Redbud
lavender pea flowers
they call ruby falls. Amusing
the hours surfing on  

a begotten breeze. Skimming
the water looking for ducks,
frogs and geese. Some say she's
lonely. Some say she's blue. Grey

clouds befall her all standing in
queues. She mingles with dewdrops
and jingles in rhyme. Spending her time
flirting with sunbeams, tracking

herons looking to dine. The bellow of
bullfrogs paint a crimson smile,
while spilled perfume of lilacs dancing
in showers has her laughing for hours.
 Jul 1 Mike Adam
matt r
listen,                 ###
listen     to the slow
    g  ro   w i  n g
cacophony,the whip
-pppping crescendo
& come alive in it.
roll up(so tidally)
&rave like the brea
-king waves. break
your spine on the
rockiness & learn
to swim once more,
learn to ebb& learn
to flow, to warp as
she does &    hold
fast    as she has.

i do not mind the
wind,  it is making
waves & i will float.
i do not mind, carry
tunes of hummmmm
-ing birds to live for,
hummingbirds to sea.
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