• unrest

    Byjucasso

    unrest relentless tide attempt to tempt a tempestuous temper-tide the
    ocean black thick froth a darkest dankest pitch
    water wields worried wakes wearing weary wreckage
    rusty musty pillion worst the thirst call upon the stars to lead you
    home from deepest depths remorse resents rain upon the oblique
    breakwater
    from mooring in the sea, steer ships by starlight moon eye bask in
    swells that lift fell some languid
    star struck sound winded-bid the eve a heart of night ephemeral where
    visions play a gentle
    moment memorable, to lose the bliss the loss of this
    incredible, dashed upon rash rocks
    regrettable fog a thick opaque shuts the eye
    the sight of plausible-escape the rage a port of call
    sail away on a mirrored sea, reflections on
    silver water, smooth as glass may be.

  • angels in your way

    Byjucasso

    breathe a sigh of relief to answer grief
    as green the juicy leaf clings to stem a requiem for root deep in the
    earth a salty saucy soil a melodious memory of where you stood
    enhanced in feeling such sweet harmony-
    take me in from summer rains that catch the mellow blues and grays,
    expanse of white lite up the sky, yellow clouds shield birds who want
    to be alone-grateful for a forgetful wind shy sublime inverted blown
    apart to shatter trees uprooted rattle-
    flying across the source of the soft
    mauve sod-bring your pride pick fruit like a pastor, find the throes
    of angels in your way that tire but preserve
    my darling my dear
    joy will quiet our fear
    that tear down the walls
    between us here.

  • on the way

    Byjucasso

    peaceful rivers thaw, fall away for sprig with leave,
    buds like jewels, open perfumed
    fragrant grasses willowy reeds, time the inevitable
    passes entrapped in sap like molasses stems bent on pent up
    blends of buttercups peeking through cracks of evening seems would
    never end-no more grieving-birds sing sweetly recurring the stirring
    moments yearn, caterpillars
    turn inside out into butterflies, delicately cross moss marsh
    and bog to rest their wings in nettled boughs and fly again to capture
    a rose as honey to a bee, looking long for freedom found sees the
    world upside down, in rapture little does she want, the air is lovely
    this time of year, her wings a collage glide ever taut, as trim as a
    sail on the rocks
    on the way by the bay for a jaunt.