BG

the artist

the artist
gazes with other eyes
inspired by fireflies &
magical dust
places trust
upon the canvas


a prismed palate in hand
painting
in glittering gold

 

unaware
and seemingly uncaring
of what anyone might think
oils blend
into a mélange

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BG

angels play

people
better than you
or me
tread water
to see the light
they have no fear
of an abyss below
for they only look
up at
stars twinkling
while angels play
hide & seek
keeping their identities secret
skipping stones across the

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BG

it

it
was all the shit
heaped up
in a pile
that didn’t need to be
surveyed by me
or you


it
was stuff
left over
from bad places
broken relations
shattered dreams
too

 

it
was a jumble

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BG

go

don’t wait
any longer
you learned to tie your shoes
long ago
so get up
and go
no need to pack the unnecessary
take only
what you can carry
in your heart
the rest
is excessive paraphernalia
that clogs the mind


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BG

scars fade

 

scars fade
they were merely a graze
not a wound
no pain
no anguish
no permanent damage
the bandage removed
made me wince
for only a nano

revealing
a healing

the music turned from gloomy gray
to something more suitable
to lighten the

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BG

today’s discourse

lessons unlearned
taking old
and making it new again


rekindling a fire
sipping on warm cider
watching the trees become bare
as winter approaches
leaves drop
1
by
1
yet the limbs don’t shiver
from the cold

 

the squirrels don’t

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