reduced over a slow boil
of the absolution of selfhood
dismayed at the notion
of settling down at a moment
of time viewed as insurance
printed out in metered lines
the poetry of redemption
neatness pictured as
vague as an excuse
muttered and forgotten
as one who remembers
all you are to me
is what was
before I remembered
you again
time is like that
like you
like me

Musings on a Blossom a Day


Every day this earthly poetry springs
unearthed in blossom bright,
perfect attention unaware in abundance true,
poised at the mercy of what knows not,
beyond posture or prayer aligned with purpose.
We dream the same dream,
this sweet perfume of words.
For the moment we are here,
That which we are granted we take for granted.
Our form, our constant breath, our graceful repose;
all this will fade in the ruffled fall of time.
Undone again and again, we glow in our grace.
There is no hesitancy passing as a promise
unfurling at this instance in brilliant time.