In a Land where even Assassins dance

Some mornings even grilled sweet yams and maple

Remind me of Paris mornings and bridges over silent waters

To return, to stand wrapped snug warm in my leathersfbpiv 011

Alone at the point.

She told me I have to leave it all behind

Focus on my Buddha and leave it all behind.

Leave all behind, the things

Shiny detritus gathered along the road

flashsparkle that snagged my eye

chiseling deep grooves into recollections.

Carved into a sandy beach, a canyon, a soul divide

Gathered now, spread dreamdusty on dusty shelves.

And just go to a snowy hillside where I ate my first valiums,

Or stumblelatedrunk in Soho,

down dark stairs to watch them dance mad

Wrapped in music that scared me.

And I think of every thing Lemon Drop Jacqui muttered

On quiet nights filled with static and her voice and static again.

(even that letting go hurts to think about…where will it go?)

She taught me to let go before I make my first step.

To Paris, to somewhere.107911_f520

To finding my own personal Buddha before I leave.


Time and waves pass.

A smile.

What seems a quiet place

Metal buzzes deep in your head

even now, the light flashes

When your eyes close.

Some days, a happy place,

All the houses up the hill freshly painted

sand is bright, brushed breeze smooth.

Parrots line the gutter.

Even in this land, the Assassins dance.

It is as you wish

Until you share with an absinthe stranger

that even images of pretty girls skin

wrapped in gossamer silks, wind-blown

in sand caked curves,

Suspended in warm clear pools of water

makes you sad somehow.

And you beg a generous friend to not share and he screams back in love


I decide where I send love.abby

You can’t refuse. You can’t say no.

‘… even if your love makes you happy warm’,

You still cringe inside, just a cringe, just the tiniest tear seeps from inside

When images on the screen,

showshare a pressed cheek with new love.

Or two sit smiling in a tree branch.

All proclaim the beauty of love

And the tiny tear comes, colored tinge with sadness

And you move on.

Some parrots fly away,

leave the grey vacant hard angle of a concrete gutter.

You know when the last one flies away, you are done

And you walk black heavy coated down streets brown with swirling leaves

And it is done.

And maybe in the morning it will be a room without shadows

Sun brights in every corner…shadows flee unwanted.

Air all fresh ginger and bananas098

That take me to a hillside of the Wye and I stare down at an ancient abbey,

wondering if their prayers were answered.


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