It’s time to jump and dive;
Run all winged melody musings
on a kite-line straight to the lake
and ride a string
against the foam
and furry wave bow Cresting the intention arrow,
see if life breaks into a real image of drowned hopes
and our silky woven plans blown by the rage of a wild draw.


Pentwater, MI 2014, August

It’s time to jump and dive
before the rumbling clouds pour over our harts averting a long silence into a bare,
dramatic fifth–
spaced lately in a flat constant fugue
between heart-beat drumming–
the rhythm that storms and lights,
a narrow consciousness blank breaking the thunder
in a clenching throat at the end of the day

It’s time to jump and dive;
again, I hear, smash of the storm door.
A wind Rose changing fast
but it’s someone else;
You! With a hat! Under cover;
with long shirt sleeves,
and a fake mustache!
Resembling to a Frenchman from the old movie with no titles,
pretending to be the epidemie of an unknown,

Northern MI pebbles
It’s time to jump and dive;
‘Why do you cast me away then appear out of the blue and push me on a tide-wave my love?”
and do not forget I can speak in tongues
“Cans’t thee hear whisper in wind twirling the empty words
falling down with the whole sky and the old prophecy?
A new image makes thee more robust,
like someone who could brake dawn into million colorful pebble pieces
set me in a sleepwalk mode
to run over and over the same dream with a ricochet
in your sudden absence
caught in a flare
of a nostalgic smile that unconsciously escapes from the backdoor”
-a near by city beach– one without picnic tables,
rustic changing-rooms or signs with tight rules….

It’s time to jump and dive….
do I see you walking

over prickly weed sticking from the sand?
This is a blow;
I thought you forgot my blueberry lips,
vines of my long hair catching your breath and the dog…

It’s time to jump and dive; 10104_430210130443458_286468957_n
you play my heart
closing it into the crystalline blue pitches lost in nebulous Siren’s lure;

It’s time to jump and dive you grated me to an invisible dimension;
a sand mineral grain with lost edges once lived with sharp stone edges…
washed are our cold feet….
“Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”


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