Tag Archives: rose

Wonderwell

It is the supple mind, ripe with longing and a sense of wonder, that needs space to dream and marvel unfettered.

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First, Lasting

In the shrine that we build for first kisses, lies the furloughed still-warm lips of Childhood’s ghosts, forever puckering to seal love, airtight in its untold lore and claim to rose.

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Prelude

Small, slow kiss, followed by lips mowing soft petals– How to eat a rose.

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Next

The lushest red rose, a fragile torch passed, to grace whatever comes next.

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Superstar

Baby, forget the petals, we’ll feed you thorns, you’ll be like Jesus Christ in black tights, a superstar in dark eye shadow, Joan of Arc with your own pop-branded stigmata, the world will adore you– What do you say? Will … Continue reading

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Braid

How quickly we forget the nearness of grief, and remember, with rated thorns, a past nettled to braid.

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Kiss

Among the feathery downs of dark, and silvery quiet, I find you, time and again, the filigreed stem of a lush red rose, a night kiss sealing air in shuttered mourning.

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Rose is a Rose is a Rose

Enfolding vortex, chambers of rose burial– to die claiming love.   (Kiss from a Rose¬†¬© Harold Davis. Used with permission.)

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Beckett’s Noir

Uprooted dark rose, growing cold in the shadows– Waiting for Godot?

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Roseblood

(In response to Tera Muskrat’s “Fiesta at the Siesta”) Homey fingerlock love & pop & play that blue fiddle, that funky music, brown & rightboy, know what ahm sayin–No, eh?–well what ahmn sayin is grace ten times over, 80-proof cuz … Continue reading

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