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.