Magician’s Scarf

Who each woman is

Does she smell like lavender fields

More worthy of obsession with each passing Day

Why the fabric of her dress upon her skin causes men to sing?

The Earth springs forth, as I imagine, musical notes with her every step. Yes.

Such passion must she follow, as to leave us inspired

Her smile draws from an endless-deep joy well

Words from her soul have him come hither, a pulling of magician’s scarf

Shane Instead

Four rhythmic beats
Two words in West Indies timbre
And I was taken aback

Back, when I was something then
Again

Then again, back when I thought to dance
Those steps
Found me, easily

Those songs, those singers
Left me, heartily
Dancing alone, unknown
To me

Banter

“There’s this girl
Well, woman actually 
But she reminds me of a girl
Child-like as she is
But that’s good 
After all, there’s no need to act your age
That’s for old people
Anyway
Oh -she is an old soul, though
So there’s this girl….”

Expectant 

my Society
thought little of me

accept the breadcrumb trail
beg for a Holy Grail 

return home empty handed
scraps to be demanded

now I know what’s true
honor is for me too

my heart the goldest medal
demands that I not settle

Strong Back

I know a Tailor
From a mystical place
A gypsy, her eyes how they flash
We talk of those men 
Those once-soulful men 
How we fell to them
Full, resolute, unabashed

Messy hearts she and I 
We examine history 
And debate on the whether at all
Those men knew their truth 
They did not we conclude 
For they flew by their mood
Yet we stand here firm in soul’s call 

This talk it’s served much
Our song it will be
We dance in the jeweled skirt of pain
The shades thrown open 
She returns to her pins
And it seems we’ll begin
To walk whole into love yet again