Tangled.

across the bowl filled with houses and streets

I see the jagged rim, cracked and covered in hues of green

the sun doesn’t quite paint all the crevasses and dips

trees sway in the december wind like waves that crest at the peaks

inside the bowl there are many souls who are always moving

like threaded beads on strings that weave around each other in an intricate web

a constant reminder of how beautiful stillness is…

but we all have obligations and days to pass

the hums, honks, and hustle fill the air like fresh-baked bread aromatics

in the shuffle, sometimes the beaded strings cross over their predetermined course

tangling up with someone else in the web

two people, two souls, two separate lives, two beaded strings, tangled together

 

whenever these lines cross we call it love or chaos, a first kiss or a funeral 

you may untangle from someone else but your strings will never be the same

your stories will always have dog-eared pages that you flip back to from time to time

im on top of the rim where I can see the movement and flow of the people in the city 

I see the network of strings weaving thru it all

I see how they get tangled and untangled and how that affects the web as a whole

I have watched my own strings get knotted up and then untied

and I can see how that has changed the course of how i am threaded thru time. 

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Saguaros.

People grow like saguaros

Slowly, producing piercing thorns

But also beautiful, punchy, red flowers

That stand out against a vista of dusty green and tan

And learning how to shape those candelabra arms

Takes time and patience and nurturing

And time and patience and nurturing

spilling coffee on my favorite shirt.

november 24, 2018 — 12:15 am

;

what were you in love with?

was it my words?

oceans wash the night’s array

displayed fragrance of petals washing ashore

quietly; pausing by your feet

stare at them, smile, and feel it against you

is that what you wanted?

was it my actions?

discharged lover walks amongst the streets

a treasure buried deep within their fragile faces

places a guiding hand; follow me

stare at them, smile, and feel your empathy

is that what you wanted?

was it my love?

thick thistles lay waste around the dried grass

fastening tightly to all its got; roses sprout

and they neither leave nor die, simply grows and stays

stare at them, smile, and feel the passion

is that what you wanted?

was it me?

libraries, galleries, and concert venues

aligns caffeine with nicotine and too much care

a robin in the air; the bloom dawns to michael

stare at them, smile, and feel the memorable

is that what you wanted?

or was it the idea of us?

crush; stay up for the sunrise after watching the sunset

hands locked longer than destiny becoming eternity

lips, touches, loves, and roses

— stare at them — stare at them — stare at them —

is that what you wanted?

;