Мне не больно
Со мною вся
Неба полная бирюза,
Клокотания зов ворон,
Трав нескошенных тихий стон.
За спиною судьбы январь,
Красным бархатом киноварь,
И дорога,длинною в день,
К моим мыслям седая тень...

Свои песни тебе пою.
По земле не хожу,парю!

little Magpie, dancing your rooftop
waltz. your wingtips catch my eye

,into dizzy love, & i see one
thousand two of a kinds.

Attend to your wounds,
mark your losses and
bear your scars - for each
borne wound is a win,
a sacrament mark
of survival worth
the celebrating,
worth wearing on your sleeve.

Jesus intended his wounds,
counted the cross a weight
worth bearing, not counting
his wounds a loss, but a cost
worth paying.

So, He now wears each wound,
each scar a sacrament,
a celebrated win,
because his wounds won you.

it’s here
your
underwear
you left
it     ..

could tell you were disappointed,
but then,
you tell it so much better   ..

your heart is just a pump, love
and if I broke that
you’d be dead, but you’re not      ..

I’m at a stand-still with you.

You ask for my advice.
I give it.

You don’t like it.
I offer something different.

Not good enough.
Then figure it out yourself.

I need your help.
Then I need you to accept it.

I paddle this verbal boat forward.
And you paddle it back.

We’re not really going anywhere.
Just making a splash.