A poetic dose

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She made a tincture of his words

dissolved in fine brandy.

Timed exactly

as the cusp of the horizon

split day into night

She took one dose

delicately

Three drops under her tongue

with a twist

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Artist: Zhang Xiaogang

(I write my poems first and then have great fun finding a picture to enhance the poem visually. I fell in love with the expression in this painting by Zhang X., even though it’s probably a painting of a young boy.  The expression  is just perfect so I’m using artistic license. Look, it even has the twist! Click on Zhang X. above for further info on this brilliant, soulful artist )

Learning curves

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The young girl, assessing the stylish posturing of her mother

critically ascertained its outward glow

as the wrappings on the package of a familiar androgyny

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The young girl, watching her father absently come and go

was held fast in his mystery.

Since he reappeared to participate in her deepest moments

it was heard as a message from god

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The young girl, never compromising her role as the eldest,

stealthily watched her brothers tangle in muscle

needing only to place her foot in the middle

to remind them this contest has many sides

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The woman, quite old now,

loves the glow of her sweat picking beans,

considers all men brothers,

and happily listens to the birds in the trees

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Under the radar

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They softened or hardened

their intelligence

walking deftly

under the ladders

of hierarchy

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While circumnavigating

the solid grid of references

they wander barefoot

dancing Flamenco

The flight of their passion

entertaining the complexities

of insight

bright seeds

 planted in fecund dust

under the radar

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photo credit: Unknown

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Three

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Doubt and Belief silently argue

as they sit upon a box

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Trust joins them

adding 3 wheels to the box

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giving mobility

to the debate

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everyone’s muscles still tense

when they pass Hope or Violence

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but they are now meandering

around the countryside

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looking for the exact spot

where their grief is buried

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photo credit: Unknown

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Enigma

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Rooted in the Greek word for “riddle”

I steady myself

in the middle of the stream

So much rain

I wish I’d worn back straps on my flip flops

standing in the strong current

but

 I’ll not wander in the side eddies

where the slickest algae

coats the surface of the stones

still idling there

passing time as if singular

feigning reflection

 an intoxicated accumulation

of over fertilized organic matter

 girdling themselves

as if they could hold on to the ground

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My days have been emptying

full of the feeling that I’m living

in two separate realities

  More than a waiting game

too much hard evidence

A pack that needs to be cleaned out

and made into a traveling case of essentials

fit for lifting off and moving

in even faster flowing water.

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photo credit: Russell Tomlin Flickr

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