October 2011
Ivy-crowned Prince,
I've yearned to meet you
in the smile that is our night;
Sonnets, cantos, Words unite us here
in a Library replete with ev'ry precious Jeweled Word ever inscribed upon "sacred space"
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Winter Library Scene 2010
Two young policeman searched for many Days in muddy Snow.
Their flashlights pricked, bored snarly pinpoint eyes:
daggers glared, dug mucky car-quashed abyss
My Momentary angel flew out, around me;
I stood still, watching, swathed in her fluttery warm winged Air
She tapped a policeman on his frozen crimson nose
"Do you seek the bones, kind Sirs, the fractured finger bones?"
"We want to find the Fingers whole."
"Why out here, on holy Library Land?"
"We think here may be where they fell
when they came to know about the Books."
when they came to know about the Books."
~~~~~~~
so very sad, the angel looks
she hadn't known the fate of Books...
I sigh inside her old embrace
so weepy am I; cry my shattered Dreams
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(final two stanzas added October 29, 2011)
Then...
after NightMares regarding broken bones,
I comprehend my flying, tripping Heart...
I understood why the fingers mattered ...
Tears burn, fall to blur your exquisite prose...
(I did, of course, see the Sunset.
a backdrop beam-ed Sky of rose and gold.
Speaking with the World's Master-Writer, surrounded by that idyllic Sky)
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