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Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Love and Youth on the Border, 1,2,3

1. Where Love and Thought are Woven

One day as I woke up in a Thumbdrive
a 16 plus 2 Sonnet (  Line count Foot)
permeated the space of a moment
that lasted forever in my own mind.

I never thought of leaving left not once
I  sustained what I wrought was replenished
Insubtrusive, oh IDK, a verb
that I now call a Noun "why?" just because

I go to the line where I lost my love
I lament it no doubt as I must, though,
I let it go and return to my thoughts
what thought had woven in and driven out

My love is gone and will never return
And like a willow tree back in Beaumont.
which dripped down its vines as a tribute
proportions of beauty tumultuous

2. The Will of the Wall, Otay Bridge

so sad to see the grated wall supine
like a worm that persists in stone cut dry
as it no longer serves any purpose
but to be an inert object to life
though it is an arc it suffers the strain
though it be of metal is still a brain
it is alive with its substances
of its fabric it is conscience as well
it is not what it never was that makes
a difference to its or even to us
we persevere uncaring of ritual
we live as we do for our survival
and none who lives wants to sample of death
but what about the bridge itself? Its shell
that alone makes it worth more than nothing
it’s as if it has a will of its own

3. Tunnel to my Youth, Wilshire Blvd.

The tunnel is an arcade through it pass
the largest networks for transit of goods
teeming with destinations like wild
just to imagine it blurs the message

you once loved to eat certains foods when young
when every new taste was so delicious
you wanted to go to each restaurant
you never found so many reasons

staying at home was boring and squalid
better to live off Wilshire Boulevard
wake up and head straight to the bakery
then take out a pen and write a few words

you'd sit there and stare out the window
whether or not it sounded beautiful
you wouldn't throw out the bit of paper
to save what could have been lost forever

it's as though it had a will of its own

This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.

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