a dizzying dalliance

be not fearful of anything
but
a diminished view of one’s self

walking by, the flame in the frame caught my eye
it took a second or two to put to and too together
that is some good light
i fashion myself some type of bull fighter
and yet i am a taurus
and full of bullshit ?
tri that angle on for size
three sheets to the wind
bonfire of the vanities
should we take a closer look?
i chose the following picture
as the topic of a poem at a poetry meeting
at a coffee shop i stumbled into randomly
         dither no more
What i see begins w/in me
 the eye, the portal
 am i free, myself, to feel
both
  fear and love.
have i taken care of my Self,
 the temple that houses ...
I see, i feel, and
   is comfort
      or 
     recoil
           my first instinct ?
am i secure enough to embrace
 the inner/outer —
     pain, i am accustomed to
 it is beauty, 
         love, 
            serenity –
                that is my struggle ...
i like cats
sundial
fairly certain the lights are a new addition
unicorn at the bow
empty space and a vault
rest in peace
f.u.b.a.r.
— the independent bar closes for the second time —
cannon from fort pitt
1905
and someone still pays homage
the twenty ninth of квітень
obelisk
ukrainetraine
grateful that is dead
following the light
in its stead
this slightly upset me
yet
past trauma and future anxiety
can only be dealt with in the now
touche’

almost back home from my reading riding writing excursion
and :

a second poem i wrote at the coffee/poem shindig, as the outro:

        a sunday afternoon
the air pierced w/ sharp notes,
a community drawn together for a fix –
   it's not the drugs per se,
but the shared experience; 
    set aside from the mundane fear,
 pushed by the electronic dealer;
here the fear is injected ceremoniously,
  to see a higher ideal —
     not debasement
  but a strength thru ...
      transfiguration, amalgamation
                 integration.
  Words flowing to touch
        one another
         via the sublime
    air vibrating
       from the tickling of the ivory
    to the bellowing of lungs & [vocal] chords
To what end?
    none, it's the ...
                      [sunday after-noon.]

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