... Applachia ..., ... Autumn ..., ... beauty ..., ... L.F. ..., ... life ..., ... love ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... relationships ...

Quandering

love hurts
if you let it

stripping away
the essence of I

becoming the
reality of we

let the cleansing come
i am weary of the old me
and my wandering is the
quandering that finds no
absolution without you

as sure as the steady,
spinning sun,
let this love hurt

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... Applachia ..., ... Autumn ..., ... beauty ..., ... experimental ..., ... girl ..., ... heartsick ..., ... LF ..., ... love ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... relationships ..., ... the South ...

sweetpea

she is the
epitome of me

&
i would want
for nothing
but the glance
she gives
in the pulling
away of a kiss

lost in the
mist of dizzy
head swilrlings

at golden sunrise
she is mine
in orbit

&
i take
umbrage with
no living thing
ever again

she is
the better
of me

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... Applachia ..., ... Autumn ..., ... beauty ..., ... home ..., ... life ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ...

waiting to Fall

ole buttermilk sky,
last dregs of Summer
hang heavy from the leaf.

people start to say,
“I’m ready for Fall”
after the blackberries

have all burned up. wet,
fat clouds float flat-
bottomed across the

sky and we daydream
of dark nights and
cool, crunchy leaves
on the sidewalks.

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... Applachia ..., ... Autumn ..., ... beauty ..., ... death ..., ... experimental ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... space ..., ... Spring ...

strain of stars

if i had ever seen anything
before, it was nothing like
this. the black, flat sheet
of night had lifted and
i saw my place inside the orb
of Everything, the empty sky
concaved, and there
we were, suspended in between
a billion here’s and there’s
by a tiny invisible
thread. or, resting on the
shoulders of an invisible
Atlas, who has not yet
heaved us into the Oblivion,
and so we float about
the grandest spherule space

it was then
i felt small enough
to die and not regret
my own life. every
memory carved into
Atoms, and bound together
with what? i am a Galaxy
teaming with life,
my surfaces are oceans,
and within and without,
time is my ever shrinking
Constant, the wrist watch
worn by my Grandfather,
and given to me, is worthless
anywhere, but here.

so when i have died
let the hum of the Cosmos
be my dirge,
the strain of stars
my threne.

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... Applachia ..., ... Autumn ..., ... beauty ..., ... country ..., ... Fall ..., ... life ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... the South ...

fine, fetching sun

there is nothing so simple
and sure as morning.

when Space’s clarity is hazed
in dreaded daylight –
when all of us rise, beast or
man – life disrespects the
nocturnal. they are the scavengers,
forsaken in the endless ruination
of sleeplessness.

it is morning
that melts the Damp of
night into clouds rising
cumbersome from the black soil-
shade for later for those
downwind, daybreak
as the great blanket is
rolled out.

there is peace in forests
at dawn. air is audible silence.
cougar stretches playfully
while the fat gray hare sips
serenely – its long ears laid
softly against its back. the hawk
preens his brilliant down in
ear shot of the field mouse, happily
twisting his minuscule mustache.

there is peace in a home, and in
the sky when our faces again
turn away from the empty
Black and into the watchful gaze
of our fine, fetching sun.

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... Applachia ..., ... Autumn ..., ... beauty ..., ... country ..., ... girl ..., ... home ..., ... L.F. ..., ... LF ..., ... life ..., ... lips ..., ... love ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... relationships ..., ... the South ...

good morning, Sunday

she limned me a
perfect day

with cherry smile
just the right shade,

and a brush of
golden blonde strands

it only required
a swash or two.

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... Applachia ..., ... Autumn ..., ... beauty ..., ... experimental ..., ... girl ..., ... God ..., ... kiss ..., ... L.F. ..., ... life ..., ... love ..., ... pain ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... relationships ..., ... the South ..., ... time ...

lovesong (thank you Brahms)

sit,

let me play
a song for
you.

it will certainly
break your heart,
the life in these
notes melts
all resolve.

let me play
a song for
you,
Mistress,
rest your
head on this
wonderful web of mine.

the Lord taught me how
to give my soul away-
the tune that swoons you,
that tune is me.

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