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Literature Text
little glass man
holding his stone
little glass man
with his glass suit
and his glass chair
in his glass room
in his glass house
with his glass yard
under his glass sky
holding glass stars
little glass man
throwing his stone
he never saw it coming
pick up
all the pieces
if you can
holding his stone
little glass man
with his glass suit
and his glass chair
in his glass room
in his glass house
with his glass yard
under his glass sky
holding glass stars
little glass man
throwing his stone
he never saw it coming
pick up
all the pieces
if you can
Literature
Siren Song
I want the crook of your shoulder
to bury myself in, breathe deep
until I feel anxiety uncoil inside of me,
melt in the waters of love so deep
fear couldn't step a foot inside without
sighing sweetly for that smell on your skin,
the one that does me in, damns me
and saves me all in the same breath,
I am blessed and never knew
the name of God except the one I thank
for crossing your path with mine,
that divine movement evident only
in the day I looked across the room,
met your eyes and cried, I found you.
Literature
Sand Mandala
One grain at a time
Is how I treated our days together
Each color of each grain
I studied the Tibetan monks—
Their deliberate lean over all that is
The chants that made and moved stones
With the authority of time
The geometry that melded with song and soul
To emerge in carefully placed vibrant pigment
Colors that seared in vision
What a blink or eyes closed in dream still saw
Look away—they’re still there
In moments of silence
A ghost of something, but
Bright shimmering
Essence
Deepest reverence
All things
Everything was there
Each grain
Each color
Handled
Placed—the math, the experience, the grandeur
Intended t
Literature
river.flow
we talk in rivers. I have noticed
them flow in the midst of our
conversations – mine the thames,
serpentine slipping as a whisper
through the low meadows, quiet
and hissing. yours the five rivers
of the punjab, vying like brothers
in a tumult of froth and noise,
wrestling their way through
mangrove roots and mazes.
the rivers raised us, taught us their ways.
somewhere two oceans meet in a
place where there is no wind,
the doldrums silent and still
as two currents cancel out in
a moment of collision. as the
thames flows into the punjab
and halts, so too do we stand
together, silent, over-brimming
with restrained tidal
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Comments2
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I particularly like the line and implications of "he never saw it coming" in spite of all that glass.