love

  • The Burden of Strength

    The Burden of Strength

    “he burned with a fire that knew no end. His hands, broad and calloused,his heart, even more-so. He could twist and turn,push and pull,pound and punch,maul and mallet—his hands,instruments of labor,implements of intent. He could love, then lose,wish, then want,withstand, yet waver,give, yet get—his heart,a blazing furnace,yet a flickering flame. Celebrated for his hands’ craft,despised…

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  • Morning Beads, Endless Loop

    Morning Beads, Endless Loop

    armor against the daggers of the world I have these beads, worn smooth, heavy with the weight of grief, prayer beads, perhaps, oiled by the endless rolling through sprocket teeth, like fingertips tracing the edges of a forgotten dream. They lie in wait, recoiled upon a black lacquered table, ready to take their place at…

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  • Life’s commercial: A Moment’s Reflection

    “Life, it’s falling, stumbling, leaving marks…“ Life is a series of snippets—like 30-second commercials selling us narratives about ourselves, to ourselves, and to others. Saturday, Rainless. The day hung heavy with the promise of rain, yielding only sweat. I had been to Los Angeles, left a message, texted early, and answered your call with silence…

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  • Ten Thousand Tides

    Ten Thousand Tides

    “Like dewdrops that sparkle in summer’s warm rays On gossamer wings of a midsummer’s day,I tickled sweet Life, and her laughter took flight,Like wind-scattered petals that dance and sway,My heart bloomed crimson in morning’s soft light. But fortune’s wheel turned, and she drifted away,Her eyes became storms on a wind-ravaged sea.Through winter I wandered, lost…

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  • Morning Melody

    Morning Melody

      The pull… to push, With stenciled lettered tiles beneath these worn fingertips, Leads me back to you. As I recall, the night before, When you, my queen, Held court in a palace not our own, Yet made me feel at home.   A banquet feast served, My eyes locked on, The beauty, Chalice cup,…

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  • Price

    Price

      Not every line’s a poem, Not every post spills secrets. Value’s in the try, not the hit. No fixed price, just the roll of the dice. Poems, secrets—same deal, The cost? Your courage to share. Economics stripped bare, Trading on old, worn coin. I crave your words, your presence, Now distant, like touching through…

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