come, stay and let's talk. it's a good day to be alive
When I woke up in the morning,
At the core of a petite bulb of candle light,
I reminisced the last day I saw you smile.
When I rode my bike,
I thought I saw a familiar figure swiftly brushing by in my periphery
that I mistook the Autumn air as your scent breezing by my face
When I read your essay scribbled on my tablet,
I felt my face warmly smiling,
A cozy sunset seemed to be taking a repose in my chest
How glad am I to have found you again.
9.4.2021
Frosty Autumn atmosphere is in the air
The sky is pastel milky blue, as if out of a Cezanne’s painting.
The street corners seem oddly a bit more serenely quiet
Putting away the wildness of a last few nights into a drawer
Now is the time to contemplate & appreciate
No more, no less.
Watching as the sun goes down, imbuing the horizon into persimmon orange-rouge haze
I clasp my hands.
Please let there be hope.
9.3.2021
I wonder if she still remembers the tempest that we rode together in our youth, rumbling and thundering, smashing into places and roaring in laughter,
I gotta say, we had our fair share of cuts and bruises, wrestling with the world, blinded by our youth fleeting ever so fast
Traces of those fights, the battles we had, the scars that were left in each other, now recollected in tiny bits of bitter-sweetness.
Remnants of these memories, ever so evanescent, remained as a mystic story, a whisper in the rustles of Fall leaves
After the storm, only the calm remains. Only in the absence of noise, truth is heard. Perhaps in the tiniest sound of them all, is where the old memory rests ever so patiently even after all these years.
So here we are. What can I do now?
I wait. I pray. I grow.
Per espera ad astra.
9.2.2021
Throw me to where the flames are arising
For this is the moment I’ve been practicing
In carousel of groundhog days
Grinding teeth as I bolster the boulder uphill ready to be pulverized at any moment
Throw me to the darkness
For the last be of candlewick’s been said to ignite the brightest
Oh, throw me where there is a need.
8.30.2021
You point your fingers at those who wave the flag at the topic of the mountain for all to see.
Poignantly, and supposedly wisely, you mutter yourself, “a real man wouldn’t waver their glory for all to see”
But that acerbic teeth clenching tells me there’s an acrimonious shadow brewing
Just for a moment to peak to strike at the chance to gain it all for yourself
So have you ever cared to notice
That the man’s mind is filled with nothing but remnants of what he dreamed for?
Empty your mind, and get busy working.
8.29.2021
Strolling through the forest,
I stumbled upon a pin
Rather peculiar, I looked around.
There was nothing.
Too quiet, too clean.
I looked up,
And there it was
A parachute full of letters
Ready to explode in a moment’s notice
Just as you turn you head just a little
To avoid the roadkill;
Staying silent, for running don’t matter too much,
I passed my time watching the butterfly fly away.
8.28.2021
As to embody the magma itself
Rouge yolk arises above the horizon
Burning its existence in every moment,
It dies, and the revives, every second.
Slowing climbing to the apex,
The pan reverberates its presence deeply
Silently, calmly, and ubiquitously.
Then it descends, as azure darkness leaks in
Ever so subtly, until the seed of ember
plants itself again into the dormant soil
Like a slow wink of a sperm whale
Who descends into the abyss
Searching for its final destiny.
8.25.2021
Rise up, I say. Hell with the images. Today we rebel.
Fire in my head clears my vision, burning foggy chirps of sloppy excuses and fear.
It’s time to stir up some magic, I’d say; times is to be earned, grasped with coarse hands, squeezed like the milky juice of lemons.
Dare, once again, before swiveling up the guards against the storm to ride the tide and seize the moment of your dream.
The day is still bright, the air is breathable. Take your moment, or get busy giving it away.
8.23.2021
Fight for her.
You know who I am talking about. I know you still remember.
Dig further into your brown square moving boxes of memories
You’ll find the scent. The tempo of leisurely siesta of golden age. Citrus bliss of youth blending graciously with the earth that abundantly provides.
Fragments of tender vignettes have been waiting here all along, sinking further into the inevitable abyss.
The touch. The smile. The softness. You do remember, don’t you?
So: fight for her. Do not neglect the promise sworn on that bridge. Onwards. Don’t look back. Fight for her.
8.22.2021
Have you noticed the creases at the back of your fingers have increased since the springtime when the blossom of the cherries cascaded like the white dancing will-o’-wisps?
That grocery list you swore you’d remember that summer afternoon as you put your feet into your sneakers to slip into the orange sunset, do you still remember?
Have the bubble that sizzled like fireworks of the July Fourth alongside the river ever got forgotten under thousands of layers of sediments of numbed memories over time?
Have they?
Do
You
Remember?
8.21.2021
Ralph with Coffee 
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