Sunday, March 21, 2010


Space Traveller Ulysses Disharoon

Some time ago, my son,
we named you again
as you had not come along
in twelve or so years of calling you.

Perhaps, it's somethin in a name
and as Disharoons go
Somehow, Space Traveler Ulysses
seems most with the flow
you could be,
you S.T.U.D.

not long after we were asked
by a friend who described us as a miracle
"are they aliens?"

well, who isn't? Empirical

we remembered your name, and I, how a son
might be a better me, might be a lot of fun

and yes we laugh, for any of it's true
Space Traveler Ulysses

we'll just call you S.T.U.


Burgundy Red Sea
anything but free
frame the face, the face of love
so somewhere I might sail.

So beautiful, to sea
on winds we might be free
frame the face, the face of love
and seek beyond our scale.

"Beautiful, revisited"

soft the song, drift near to dream
where someone's love will stitch the seam
to mend, to heal, to weave the cloth
with everything but my mind, off.

watch you breathe, so long a day
i carry needs to need away
and joyful, tasks, for tasking's sake
my love's for you, for asking's wake.

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