Blog Archives

Fibonacci’s greed

Numbers are gold They measure the silence of centuries and never pin down to feeling. Put Love in a number It would be 0, 1 or 10. Put Hate in a number It would be seven. Numbers follow the horizon

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Posted in Invisible stories, Iron Tales, My poems, Wordsmith

Vestiges and claws

We are the only people in the world and we hold the keys to all gardens and dungeons beneath a wall… We live on Moon’s compassionate light and greenish profoundness of Spring. We may not die but if we do

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Posted in Invisible stories, Iron Tales, My poems, Wordsmith

Love is the fifth season

Love is the fifth season It starts in March With shines of longer days, guarding the waters more. It moves along with greens and joys of May. It flourishes above the lilacs And with you I sleep Amidst lilies-of-the-valley… It

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Posted in Invisible stories, Iron Tales, My poems

Depleted

If I feel depleted Why should I breathe a name That carves chunks of my heart At night And pending mornings Sticks them With meager liquid That flows In the deep Of the dark side of your Quivering moon…  

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Posted in Invisible stories, Iron Tales, My poems

Spoils of the evening

When I’m not in the right place I take a step look into the heart of a stone cloud moonbeam memory and get drunk with the shades of night’s wish to light the world…            

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Posted in Invisible stories, Iron Tales, My poems

Vanlifer of the heart

The heart has a puzzling shape The moment you thought it broke Becomes twofold. The moment in a relinquishing evening You thought it whole It breaks Until the morning When the shape is restored And your feelings pour like early

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Posted in Invisible stories, Iron Tales, My poems, Quote

Encaptured

Her skin is like fire her breath, distant desire Flowers meet for their annual feast any time you kiss her meatiness white… Her hair comes from the stars a supernova dust it shines and coils and transports all of you

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Posted in Invisible stories, Iron Tales, My poems

Every day a little dream

I long for a dream, within a dream that clears the sight of you. I am asleep and asleep I feel nothing But the craddle of your arms like orange snakes thrashing fears around… Black and white tale Shall that

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Posted in Invisible stories, Iron Tales, My poems

The man with the crimson heart

I know someone who kisses the way a flower opens, but more rapidly. – Mary Oliver I know someone who breathes as soft as stories find nests into lives. I know someone who touches the sunset light in the sycamores.

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Posted in Invisible stories, Iron Tales, My poems, Quote

Writing

Writing is quieting the burns from people’s thoughts and deeds And dissolving all knowledge that this will ever happen…   Art by Andrea Kowch.

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Posted in Invisible stories, Iron Tales, My poems
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