Tumbleweed, blessed milk thistle

Just to know that it’s there.
Helpless, in hindrance.
How attached are we.
It’s always a dim light,
wooden form,
a firedance,
moonshine,
tasting sweet like velvet advice.
At least he recognizes
a tarnished word.
Blood sea ocean shine.

I am grateful for you.
A red light
moving on.
Dear insight,
I’m softening
Milk spilling.
I fall back too.
What I want is ocean waves
waving bye.
Help is coming.
Who am I.
Whelping wind,
broken streams,
God’s favorite.
Can’t help it.

3 orange diamonds.
I’m not alone in this.
I bought my own emerald,
I didn’t buy my bag.
Wolf peak mountain top,
I hear you between violin strings.
I can’t translate it all.
It’s an open wind,
open book,
and I have nothing
to say when it says no.

I always come back to love.
Totality, eclipse.
Opening Notes,
collarbones.
My hand brushing
a thousand beads.
A cluster of mangoes
between music notes.
A deepening red purple violet hue.

It’s so cold.
A temperament swing.
An open clock.
Little tilts to big push.
I’m never lost.
Sunrise talks back.
It’s light to dark in the trees,
and I look for cracks.
Stop playing God, yellow light.
I know better.
What’s the question?

To be confused is a privilege.
To crawl on all fours,
less than a version of me.
Stop being corny, you old bee.
It’s the suggestion of knowing.
Do you hear me in a bass line.
Brass section, brass knuckles.
It’s nothing I can do.

Billionaire baby, blessed blood.
It’s nothing I can do.
I’m shedding raw skin,
molting lava,
bolt-in lamb.
Never proving myself.

Poetry and writings // PDX

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