Hidden on Commercial Street

Flipping of a coin from tail to head.

cart-wheels on the beach.

Drag Queen working the beat on Commercial street.

Bare-footing, on the sultry tar.

Hidden seaport cemeteries overgrown with unknown kin.

Similar searches…

Performed like a well manicured dance from centuries ago.

Gentle Journeymen and Women with unease being the common goal.

A sense of unique sadness for each seeker.

Respectively, all grinding down to the marrow.

Sure as there is salt in the blood.

And, annoyance from the misread.

If I could prosper my soul in this secret search.

I would unleash all that I have.

But cannot be bought.

Yet,

most likely,

I would rather stay a seeker.

Romanizing tales of lost love…

And, her deceivers.

 

Breaking Waters

Fresh water sea gathered around at my knees and feet.

Would the memory fade?

The gentle bear at the edge of a neon street?

The aggressive wallflower that would not give up her nylon seat?

Water, secretly breaking?

May, December, lovers on retreat?

My scattered thoughts…

Re-learning how to ebb, flow and sway?

Watching used to be pilgrims bob in and out of a rainbow bay?

There is a renewed ambiance to my heart.

No matter, how sparse the spark.

A kinship for broken brick streets.

Straight but not narrow with conceit.

Quiet is the comfort with being seated near dark pastels of an ocean at night.

By dawn, a mostly faded memory and I, will move on.

Yet,

I will grasp hold to the feeling of release.

Such as, holding onto someone with a too tight grip.

Knowing tomorrow they will elude my fingertips.

 

 

Love’s Haberdashery

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Love’s haberdashery is the awakening of green…

And, all that it may seem.

It is the culmination of timber, ash and lemongrass.

Best of all…

It is the kiss that cannot stay.

But in the remains of the day…

Lasts, and, lasts.imageedit_32_5627156123

Stop Making Sense

When young I could not rearrange the shame.

I only heard words such as,

‘You are queer.’

It was then…I drew the terms of isolation near.

Amassed myself in,

ribbons, bows and the pink of fear.

Attending to only,

‘I knew there was something strange about you.’

A parent’s abolishing phrase?

Words only a child can hold dear.

The life we choose does not always make sense. If it hurts no one. It shouldn’t have to.

 

All the While

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No significance to where it came from.

Love, did not grow beneath my nails.

Charm not from the dust kicked up behind my wheels.

Angst,

neither, the heel.

Nor, from how the heart heals.

I had been let in by way of luck.

Faith, came down only by the shower of your smile.

And,

it is at your welcome,

I wait all the while.