.

six degrees of separation.

The actualisation
will be the tendre humanist, actually
the poetics and fluidity
of the dervish's ways;
a scarf becoming frayed along the wandering
between your porch
and mine, still sticky in deck oil.

The current realisation was you standing ankle deep amidst rushes
then I, shocked, knee deep frozen flight triggered leaving.

But I recall a boardwalk
and silver ferns that brushed dusty legs
bent hung over an estuaries mirror,
I recall the sand piper, blue crabs pulling the sky beneath the sand
and yes, everyone went bare footed.

Love is vast, yes, and mine traverses the strait without mindfulness
childhoods secret retreat, and a youth spent not knowing where I fit.

Too long were the years away that mesh belongings
but not long enough to forget melaleuca crammed in a jar and honey
taking up the ambience of the breakfast table.

Reviews

[Michael X]

wow, stunning and metaphorically inebriating, the plane of thought where
colors subside to the natural outlook of natural, it is beautifully written.