OUT OF PLACE

we fear the stranger fallen from grace shaken, unsure   hair snarled like side yard vines a reminder of someone chasing you in dreams   the eyes, hoping for a sympathy gaze   for coins a cold meal, from a warm heart   he knows he is out of place, searching for someplace else  

SHADOW LINE

Night shadows are the feast of awakenings. The outskirts of compassion, absent of spiritual thresholds. They are the counterparts without conversation; the willing partner in an imperfect sphere. They are unassuming.  Their intension is directed, visually controlled, a bondage of motion; their gifts are weightless, failing to intrude. Style is choreographed without independence or expression. … More SHADOW LINE