i put down the wand, the dowsing rod, even my cards and i can still feel it. magic, it courses through me like my heart beat. pounding the past into the present, constantly up against the future. but never quite anywhere but here and now. that's where i like my magic, in the now. time travel is fun, but now is where i do my real work. past pondering helps me see where i've been but that's also where i left the story in the past.
it is with a clear mind i am my most potent. no need for the story, or the worry. i've got the best gift of all! i've got the present, ha!
free flow, why? because.
poetry is like opening up a pop bottle
that has been shaken
or maybe it's like pouring molasses
from a cool, glass, jar...
thick, dark and slow.
today, i am feeling poetic.
often i think in texture.
words are weird
and sometimes they blur the lines,
but none the less,
i have a love affair with them anyway.
the shape they make my lips take,
how they slap my tongue against the roof of my mouth
or run their edges against my teeth.
i love those words,
i want them, i beg for them.
write to me poetry when i least expect it.
leave me love letters
in the places that have become routine.
smear your smell all over the folded paper
so my eyes, and nose have a feast to devour.
i want to taste your intent.
i want to close my eyes
and feel your words send my skin a prickle.
you know how to do it,
like the truth of raw emotion moves me.
leave me hungry
it is there
i feel alive.
it is there
i feel the zest of life.
and these words.
i'll hang them
like a proud lover
over the carved heart
of our unconditional love ;)
you know how i do.
yeah, i speak in metaphor.
can you decipher?