Music is my muse, and the words my lovers. What else does one need?

Music is my muse, and the words my lovers. What else does one need? Perhaps food, warmth, shelter? If you know the music and love the words, you will need none of those three, for you will find they come along much easier than muses and lovers. The world is full of food, full of warmth, full of shelter, full of war, and full of peace. The trick is to find, or let find you, the happiness and love for which you should live your every-single-day in sweet embrace of destiny, both breathed and mediated.

i have a problem with words.

i have a problem with words.
us, we use them, we throw them
away, hold onto what they meant
but keep going as though they
were never said; or maybe we
hold on to the thought and watch
as it slowly falls from view, a
sort of leaf and we’re caught in canopy
, out of touch with the effects
of a collision between dug/filled ground and new.

in a wind, you

in a wind, you
told me all you
ever said in
one breath, so
deep– i
never knew
you would
want the words
returned
, well,
how lucky
the sky
spans us all
and
all i need be
is transparent
for you to see
through to
where i am not,
nor you,
but
still
your eyes are
and, there, they
live, they
experience
the curvature
of a world
stood on
and slept in,
walked and
wandering,
waiting for
the visitors,
they, who are
lively, stationed,
to feel
to feel
they are all
in this,
She,
together, and
ignorance
is bliss
only if
you know not
ignorance exists–
walk the turning world
and know you’ll never
be where you are now
again
unless you
circumnavigate
this crystal-clear cylinder,
perfectly/
slightly/
rounded, bulged and
so stuck in gravity
to find the worry
of falling
is just if you go
too far from where you belong, for
if you risk the raise of
the risk, you’ll
surely find a notion squandered
by crazy calamities,
but if you
are where
you belong,
and you’ll know,
you’ll know if you’re
where you
need to be, you’ll
surely be safe, for
you wouldn’t be
where you belong
otherwise–
and
fear nothing, for
you are where you are for
the sake of not being
anywhere
anywhere else, but
but
hold on, and you’ll never go.

every cover story of the Princess

every cover story
of the Princess
stirs about your face
to show me/remind
the mind you’re alive
despite my no longer
remembering your
heart beats.

every new secret
found lends
a thought to
what you’re into/what’s
going on with you now
and what
happened with you then.