If the senses make any sense I’d rather dwell On earthy smells Grass soaked by rain A fireplace Jazmine, lavender, so many of them If senses make any sense Cinnamon is the taste In sugary blend on bread and cake It senses make any sense The touch of clay taking shape on molding hands warm […]
Looking the mirror what do you see? Ghostly desires Standing still Grayish light Subduing reliefs Looking at the mirror What do you see? History engraves A design of its own Intanglio of wonder Struggles and love Looking at the mirror What do you see? Power in felt Gentle yet firm Thoughts hauled up Swirled on
Erected in Clay, Wood and Stone Hay, leaves, water and bones Soft and permeable Flowing gowns Thick and strong Ancients oaths Unfathomable boundaries Containing, confining, protecting High or low our gaze will go fluttering signs, scrapes and stains Bleeding time Trails of tales Hanging here and there Here and everywhere Changing lines and shapes Hues
Purpose Elusive and wonderful Living prints in patterned sands Moved by waves Wind and water Shaped and reshaped By time By hands By mind By hearts Sought after Through Life Through Love Through Experience Through Age In books In charts In Gods In people In the stars Purpose Wandering Metaphor Of the invisible Soul Containing
Nobody seemed to remember the old house on the hilltop. The white walls worn and yellowed by time were speckled with thousands of small pinholes where termites have eaten through the wood leaving a complex web of faint lines. Pieces of blue shutters hung precariously on rotten joints or crumbled into piles of sand on
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