History of the hollow’s breeze

Down in the hollow
The cold air flows through like a slow river
In the mornings and evenings
Sometime in late June it soaks into the ground
To keep the earth from melting
It rises up again in September
Cherished at first
Then ignored as the cold of clouds comes down
A pleasant reunion
  so far from Hades

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Oh how hollow

Until you are hollow
You can never be full
Of light and warmth

Until you are dull
You can never be shined
Into brilliance

So many are so close
I hear them whistling in the wind
I see them extinguishing the sun

I hear them singing
” oh how hollow
           Oh how dull”

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Saffron drum skin

I am a saffron stick figure
Painted on a drum skin
In a safe place
A place where I don’t fade too fast
I can feel my heart beat with the drum
Sometimes at festivals it rains on me
As the water soaks in I go deeper
As the water evaporates I rise
The drum beats water
The sun rises from the drum
The wind carries the sound
And leaves me here on drum skin

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All of it

See how it is
all connected
With blood and paper
Membranes to light and look through

All of it

A mirror of sorts
A still pool of water
With cool springs feeding the depths
A drop of rain ripples your face
A blast of wind
Turns the pages of your mind
And fans the season’s change

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Fading bell

The sound of a bell fades across water
vanishing with laps and gurgles into the storehouses of echoes in the colors and aromas and shades of light that dwell closer to the heart than mind summoned out in rare occasions like a waterfalling parade of dreams that rise and hang above us as heavy clouds
Ready to soak us in sensuality as soon as the earth shakes the temperature drops or the wind changes direction.

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