rich soos

prayer acts as referee between the heart and mind

I grow flaming lungs to blow the ocean back

I laugh because I'm in command

reality is a drunken feeling

the piano knows the words that dwell deep in the soul of all who desire mercy for their commanded lives

behind simple foolishness is a tongue calloused by imagination

graves will fill deep and set by time, with everyone living in a hurry to escape the inevitable sleep

I make plans to review my weaknesses and repair my faults, then eat and drink and watch the list burn in the candle lit for that purpose

the clock never thinks to stop it measures our hearts our dreams and laughs at the wind

there is no need for speaking with more than our eyes

words defeat the mind which wants to think without them wandering around

I keep my world small

failure determined my old pain magnificent

I would go places poems live before they find their way to paper

I give you space for dancing with the butterfly

I have spent my years walking through the quiet air seeking the poem

I write this all down - I know that someone somewhere needs to remember

your eyes have blossomed from patient rains and petals

dance long through the rain as it remains alive

O sweet children of life, run through madness freely

my poetry is used to living alone

we talk different syllables

you stand savagely delicate

my guitar danced for hours

a dream does not become a dream until it is over

the ballet slippers summon your feet with elaborate powers

I translate the music

I become my own passion, a lunatic dream of myself

I am reminded each day is a war

I shout at the thunderbolt with unmerciful voice

reverent contemplation sweeps away the dust

there are times the title says more than the poem

I am truly the imagination of my self

he grows thin as his wife watches him die

trees grow wild from your eyes

winds blow angry from your throat

I'll never weary of surprise

when truth is finished transforming our perceptions we create the fiction

comfort new poems - they spend much time wondering if anyone cares

there is music hidden in corners to be found by a child exploring shadows

when I tell you that I love you it's good to see songs burst from your eyes

Your dances trample flowers and lay mountains into crushed stone.

In truth these poems will never reach beyond a few good friends drunken and theatrical.

a poem is a small part of yourself left everywhere open and dispensing chunks of your soul

when you see inside the beauty of the whole world shines forth from the depths