walk, a self-taught discourse on pushpullpush

[wordsaredreams]

eyes untie

the swagger of swans swollen with the
intricate interweavings of leaves
fallen (risen) to surface (sleep)
serenades the swoonsong of
knotted noons nouns never knew

so

dip your head, child

let lips lick the eternal shores of lethe
the
way rain loves these pages
the age of the sage is (re)born in

the four
the ten of clubs
the tenderness of lion's paw
pressed against cloud or cheek
an inheritance that merits miraculism
ismizing the smiles
of swoonsung children
chosen to WEAR each moment
like an earpiece
a clear peace
permanent
permeating the forestral firmament

the trees on their knees, darlings!
the treetops dancing
glancing over
to an abundance that tickles the
tiniest of toes and
knows
knowledge
lies not in the hard-pressed pages of books but in
looks between lovers skipping across
pregnant parking lots like
timelessness

we are the
travelers and unravelers of glorious reveries

glorify the gardens of mind that allow
all
moments to SHINE... DIVINE

to intertwine and twirl like the
mother-brushed hushed hair of little girls
chasing playground squirrels

all

these

stirstick predictions lie linguistically
(still) in the sand
countless grains with crocodile grins
remind us of the crowquill quiet that quickens
the footstep footslip foothold oh
fingers tingle like the mischievous mosquito disrobing entire
populations of borrowed "sorrow"

so row not, you're already

there.

gone is the ghost town
gone is the ghost story
here is the most serene of sounds
here is

satori

the story of which inscribed in stone speaks in threes -

one plus
one plus
one plus
one is

eternity.