Tuesday, November 4, 2014


most days I ignore it
shrug it off 
remain wrapped in detached presence
able to push it back into the darkened corners :
that veiled punch to the southern cross
that leaves me smiling in some slightly wistful electric want
of all things hungry & driven
most days . . .
and I am fully aware that you are indeed no ghost pressed against my back
flicking open that spark
fully aware
and yet . . .
you are this golden reflection today
grabbing my attention & hurtling me into "going there"
causing my too feel beyond the borders of my skin
grasping that haunting shadow & submitting to
the golden weight of you

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