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PHILOSOPHER QUEEN


I stood at the edge of the reflecting pool

With water cascading, lush and cool

I jumped into that pool of sun

And sank simply down with lungs

That filled easily and felt freely

To live and breathe each day brimming

In that reflecting pool

When God reflects, I thought, it might be something

Fresh like this with cold gulps of water between billowing breaths

I sat and thought that I’d lived for a day

Until I realized that I was in shades of grey


Like concrete smacks!


But blue attracts the eye to stellar cenote

When our earth erodes

And yields to puddles of calm

I knew not that psalm

But a belief in color and my druthers

Contrast a muted scene

When rehearsed and half-believed could mean that I was nearly there

To see the brushstrokes swept along the sunbathed trail

Which marked with care the journey of the candid ones

Unfettered and free to slide down the soft ravine and plunge

Deeply into the stream


I stood within time and felt the current grew

And turned me down into a whirlpool

I was guzzling Eternal Youth

To the brim of what seemed shrewd

But I found the turbulent seas grew to a state of severity

Not listless but weathered and smoothed out from there

Like iron smooths creases and minerals pare

Away in surges of the undertow

Deep breaths between the rolls and throws

Only to find that in the flush it was dried out!


If I had my choice between water and air 
I’d choose some of each and more to

Spare me the harsh edges of society

When pain cuts in and leaves

Me spilled out the wrong way

And filled out the wrong way

In the wrong place, the wrong shade, in shades of grey


Like stone cements and slate prevents

Me from seeing color in the cave

I’m blinded by the outrage of

My tasteless scene these days

—Blind Grotto Ways—

To roof the caged man clawing at the surface of life

But never getting in or out or down or found but confined

To shrink beneath a capacity

To be set Free


I scratch not for the purpose of getting in or out

But instead to refute the doubts

From men who think life remains slated and dated and clamped into place

Or extinguished like fire slakes

In smoky arcane

But instead I envision the sunlit sub terrain

When the parapet crumbles and society stumbles

Because life should be free

And grace should be seen



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