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Careful

deepening love—
blossom branch breaks free from her
trunk, playing tricks on heads—

image

ports

ports

impressions

Solstice

Bulbs.  Midnight rainbow bulbs’ solace is
my quasi-collapse through a plush ottoman.
Later, chilly sandhya holidaze requests
a reckoning, and I’m good at judging plans;
staring, breathing, counting on shopping
lists for smiles.  It’s all for little smiles.
Wee Mia, she only digs the real bliss.
And why shouldn’t she?  Hugs and wiles
come with smiles.  How could they miss
or rot?  Daddy breathes her in and his
lungs embrace her.  I think we really want
our children to smell.  What is this:
Love? Just a baby’s scent in the morning
clearing the cobwebs for blasts of glory.

Untitled

So much time wasted
But in a flash
One revelation
One realization
To forge ahead
And forgive the past
As much as it taught
With our souls we bought
More time to use
Try not to abuse
The power you’ve earned
From all of which you’ve learned

 

by Traci Guberman

Purple sunrise from
a spiced balcony. Currents warm
fresh bitterns. Thieves fly.

Montreal 1-3-14

(c) wordbabey

(c) wordbabey

10211201

Love.
(Four-letter Word.)
High-fives on the steps
of a gold dome.
Love, crowned
among souls
among song
among communities
among citizens (and denizens).
Among us, Love—and tonight
a toast.  Drink
up, get out, in
Love.

Tethers of masses
unmade by velocities.
No limits but what’s seen.

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