Her fight is mine
I swear I’ll always
always be by her side
holding her hand
before the needles pinch
kissing her till the pain goes away till I hear the giggles
she can’t help it she’s ticklish
and I love the sound it’s my favorite.
I’ll do anything
anything for that baby girl with the curls over there
look at her
look at her smile
during battles
what a warrior princess she is just
magical
isn’t she? A sweet unicorn mine forever.
Home of the Brave Hearts
Became a mom again but this isn’t like the first time.
I see it now. You and your sister traveling different paths.
Two roads open yours paved with speed bumps and grit.
Aesira’s smooth and clear
Yet both reach the same sun
A love's golden warmth
home
a place
where you both bloom
wild and free
each in your own way
both perfect
What it feels like to go down in flames…
I’m a messy spaghetti ball of emotions,
burnt and blazing hot with flames,
ready to torch anyone
who comes too close
as I reach out for help with bony hands
like daggers ready to stab,
gazing at beauty with mirror eyes
that reflect the sun in lasers
burning all I look at,
and when I look into mirrors,
I burn myself.
First Words of Day, in the Morning Dew
Poets.
Where others are tortured
by sleeplessness
We turn torment into art form
And lay into it tooth and nail
With all the entrails
Hanging loose
So juices spill, rolling down
The crevasse...
Blotted up from the chin
onto a diner serviette and
repressed in print...
The pain still fresh expressed
like from a grinding mill
where sand is powdered
into dream...
Sweet is our profession
With the only hand on the call
Box being as transparent as a
Vesper
As it hovers over a heart
In the breaking darkness of dawn
When it has just freshly been Forgiven...
Languid in our vision, as cool
And calm as palm fronds
Swaying as the
Breeze exudes
The breath,
The word becoming new life
As dead sheets are turned...
And the corners are tucked
5/4/24
Bunny Villaire
& Mavia Villaire
Angles
The entirety of our existence
is suspended in the definition
of our perspective.
Even the boundaries
can change,
have the possibility to rearrange,
dependent upon each individual claim
on the limitations of
impossible things.
He sees nothing
and it is zero, nil, an irretrievable loss,
an empty void of useless space.
She sees nothing
as a promise of grace,
of hope, creation, redemption,
and change.
They both see emptiness
but it's what they choose to do with that space.
These words are only
an ignorant human expression,
for I cannot purport to know
the solidity of fact,
of Absolute Truth,
to say otherwise is a fallacy,
self evident in the arrogance.
Choice
is what we have been granted
to work with,
this is what our Free Will is.
THE SUN AND THE SEA
I fall in love with him more every day
Like waves on the rocks my walls chip away
And if what we had is dead, I'll bury it
Then I'll put it back together bit by bit
If he is the waves than I'll be the land
I'll let him break me down to sand
I'll let this love soften me too
If that's what it takes, what he wants me to do
And I'll be whatever he wants me to be
And he'll do whatever to be with me
He'll calm the waves and tame the sea
But despite these things I do decree
He loves me though, he really does
But I'm afraid of drowning some
So if I am the warmth and he's the cold
There has to be some other hand I can hold
I'd rather love the sun, and I'll be the sky
I was taught to swim but I'll learn to fly
And if the stars are too far away
Then I'll love him only during the day
If he is the sun than I'll be the moon
His light, it fades so tragically soon
And if smiles cross his face daily
Then mine take a full bright moon to see
My love is the sun and I'll be the sky
I love him with every breath, every sigh
My smiles reflect only off him
They are the reason that I can live
There has to be another hand to hold
I found one and it isn't cold
So even as winter comes to pass
I know that love isn't what my heart lacks
If he was the sea than my new love's the sun
And this time I'm certain that he is the one
As surely as the sun will rise in the east
At long last I will finally know some peace
Poem of heaven and Earth
THE STARS:
The dyad of agonal dawn-
Beyond the peace of dusk
Where hang the trellises of
Constellations- there is the
Square motion of lifting flags
The accelerating billow in
The interstellar clouds- as
If the the lifting of wings- the
Sussura of all angelic beings
In crowded assembly- the
World and the “ten thousand
Things” they are all drifting–
They are the world in many
Blossomings of shape- and
They are hanging on an easel,
In a background–
Receding, all strokes
suggesting–
There is another easel
behind it–
And this is the one onto which
All time is bleeding,
Into a single painting
Severed beyond our
Eye's seeing; all of
The moments which were
Lost; they hang
Amidst the cotton fields
And yeast of Stars. Wreathing
And saturating all the
Oort clouds - - oh how
Their volume hangs;
Against the dark–
Annointing them and
Staining them– in hues
Of Stanton Macdonald
Airplane Synchronmy in
Yellow Orange they
Swim across; our
Bluest veil– our sky -
UNDER THE STARS
What are we to do- we who
Cannot see them? Tragedy
Of birth
Beneath all of this we are trapped
On the collapsed
Pillars- foundations OF raptured
And Dying - EARTH, and must
Be trapped here all ways. As in
Cask of Amonticello. And so
On the fissile shaped missile; earth
We scream tragically- across
The sky and in Jejune autumns
Of our universal death
The martyrs advertise- in Halle
Boppe comets- the only easy
Ticket– off this unprime real estate
And for moments we can cross
In the Autumns of Jacob Zoet
Or in the God of Small Things-
Bevy our soul across the veil
Beyond this earth– in text just
For a minute. And for a minute
The soul may seclusively
traipse itself
In the papery taste of
Books, like the papery
Taste of Locusts from
Which John the Baptist
Drew sustenance.
And all this reminds;
That in this dark wood we are
Entering, there must always be
The Crocus of remembering
And ammonia of forgetting.
And all this must be why,
Must be- -
Why, Sophocles must
Make Oedipus blind
Itt must be why
Gilgamesh must die.
It is why, though it is
A Tragedy, for others
To be blind – it a blessing
To the poet. For since Homer's day
We spend our being calling upon the
"Wine-dark sea" making
Efforts not to witness
The sea's shimmering blue
Evaporation of resistance
For us there must be hope in high heavens-
But here upon earth, there is
Only work of
Bedlam
And there is no silver trumpet
Of angels- lovingly arched, there
Is only, to play the tunes-
Of all the aching and
Of all the wistful hearts
The tin whistle- and the
Blues harp
With which can idle
Away– the mystery
Caught here– upon the earth
As the tilting foundation plummets
The fingers of the lovers clutched
At the summit
May share only the mingling
Resistance
Of bitter distant numbness
WE ON THE EARTH:
In spring the heavy weight of all
This tragedy is falling
But with nothing to feel its weight
Either it effects it is lightly as two
Snowflakes upon a tongue.
And reels, and so there is
Nothing to stop us– from seeing
The falling of Helicopter seeds
Dancing like spinning Sufi's,
Apart all our questions –
In helical symmetries.
And so all spring rephrases
The daring question:
Not now, not now-
"Do I dare disturb the
Universe"
But do we dare rehearse-
Our existence,
with bliss
Still with hope–
In a universe too big
To be disturbed by
The human comprehension
Of Warmth
The mountain stream
Mounting in extremis;
Grandeur the pinnacled
Light dappling the pines
The needles crossing through
Each other, each becoming
A new pattern for the light
And the shade to beat through
The pulsatile, invidious, and
Piercing light of these days
The trees are huddling:
Branch throwing friction
Against branch
Wind that whistles through
My trance, through the days
Spent in these high places
Now the warm mug is pressed
To my lips, above the teeming
Wildernesss: it's violence becoming
A patterned peace
What is hard in me begins
Softening and unravelling
To the world outside
All that is dark in me is
Uncoiled into tranquility:
And there is no darkness
At all that is not touched
By lignt
I am not just myself I am
The heights and I am the
Wilderness and
I am the
Wind blowing