Fifty pulses per minute, at rest.
Burning sapphire, my heartbeats
trace a syncopated arrhythmia
on the chart.
Lively, my love keeps it molten.
Hot, flowing gemstone that singes
all but the girl who’s my setting.
Light flares within.
How did I live before this?
Posted to dVerse Poets Pub, Quadrille night. The magic word is “burn.”
Life on Mars. I found
this cut on a long-ago
album. The innocent
idea of leave your troubles
and woes, light the fuse
and away it goes.
Red roadster, red roadster,
let Starman take over.
Off of cruise control –
ground control –
cruising the Solar.
What a system!
An oddity. An odyssey.
“Sitting Things Out,” by Charley
photo by Charley
I hit play on R.E.M.’s first
studio album, sip
this soft-spoken red
consider my life’s turns.
Had it been,
if I’d had… an aortic,
an Austin Flint, a diastolic,
or an ejection – never learned
what – I might have pursued
writing.
But never murmur.
Posted on dVerse Poets Pub. Written for the quadrille night… the magic word is, “murmur.”
photo by Charley
Character is like a tree and reputation like a shadow.
The shadow is what we think of it; the tree is the real thing.
– Abraham Lincoln
photo by Charley
Life in Portofino 