My kind of company:
the artistic speak-easy lime-light
underground


weaving through brick boxes
the four walls the carpet/floor
up on eaves that hide the heavens
kept quiet like the caged bird

is

flying as it twitters / sings
past pretty prisoned things...

But my kind, he cradles freedom
waltzing through the walls
metaphoric boxes and coffins

our vision

in a waltz, as if the small of her back
were bass strings, gentle passion chords
touch  like braille to blind meaning

while the left hand above the head
always cups hers / perfect and soft
(hands - like a glove)

And my kind, again
she is a smile, like Divinci's fortune
her heart similar to Mona Lisa

is

kept secret (a curve of quiet flesh)

lips purse patience
while the vanity in affairs with airs
of eyes, wagging tails, and talk, swells
out there in the hours foretelling

the lovely song soon touch

beloved

all the feeling --ethereal and divine
as the shadows chime red wines
and woes the proclivity
of cages and walls and travels...

But the kind are
withheld / kept / proper

like abeyance with antique shoes
it
is
unmoved to bother

But my kind
goes on so,
they dance, and they tango
and all are moved as any who glance
upon great beauty
a canvas of poetry
or taste du cuisine

from the heart
springs / of the art / sings
a gentle breeze on an August day

whirling passerby
cooling the sweat from brow & nape
sharing the shade
a refreshing drink

(the milk of Tao)
Enlightenment.

My kind of character,
a kind friend I should think,

is
accepting

is
unapologetic

compliments
all and one another

we thank all
the heavens for
the Light
of our beautiful days.




(my kind rejoice
together not the same)