bursts of orange

The juices that i drip, like shadow on brick Seen but not felt Are you like me? Leaving organs on the pavement Let them use them to sound happiness lilting cadences of living Spray painting pulses on the wall See them connect the static to need Sparking voltages of survival But they walk by Leaving glances and sighs Stealing impressions and feelings But they walk by... The Juices that I drip, like shadow on brick Seen but not felt. Are you like me?

Studies of woven patterns Knitted into the grain of my quarter life count my rings Opaque Proud Conceited

The ever No mind Adventure weaver Human reefer Eternal seeker Missed Forever

When my world is falling leaves and ageing browns, yours is warmth, light and enduring days In an alternate alternate We walk side by side Until then we walk instead in our every weather snow globe On our beloved path of ease and laughter It doesn't matter that we fall out of sight  We always fall back in step... Here we hold hands Hands scribbling messages in the air Hands cupping what cannot be...

There is a beacon of hope stashed deep within me, Encased in flesh and disappointment, breast and their forgetfulness.

Someone shook off a shilling shook it off and shimmied away shook it off and left it shimmering in the light of day so i stood to watch it shimmer stood then stooped to scoop it up stooped to scoop up a shiny silver such a shiny silver it was so shiny i stuffed it in my pocket supposing it would shimmer through show a stranger the shine in me too A shiny silver pair shimmering away in the light of a sunny day

She that writes- Akello A flower knows no language Even when the wind beckons she can only sway in agreement So make me speak to you, Make my language old and remarkable Save me the singing of seashells Save me the sonnets of the Sea Make mine a roaring of thunder or a bashing of tides But give it to me Give me language Make my language fierce and full of ancestry Save me the musings of the mountains Save me the theatre of caves Save me... For I am a sigh without language.. So write me into your living  But write me expressing my offerings in a language of truth. My truth, Our truth. Flowers yearning to sway no more.