The Leftover Pieces

We called our vessel the   David Robert Jones. A time of travelling, esoteric and distanced from others. Bodies without borders, boundaries blurred by betrothal. You told me a mariner’s tale of two and their tangible, yet, futile future. Life based on oblique sailing strategies and the fear of seeing a mermaid. Folklore guiding a doomed ship close enough to land,

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oI lived in Damascus, and that was wrong. Though it was a gift; I was surely too young, To understand how close windows utter love from beyond dust, Or to own friends everywhere with a simple smile of trust, With men and women at entrances and shy beauty behind windows with curious eyes; Or in indoors shouts of children and

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inspired by a poem by Jarl Hemmer of Finland The sunshine sea of calmness mirroring the morning sky embalms me as I rise ascending on the rocks embracing this resplendent morning, diving deep into the universe and bathing in the billow blues my thoughts where I just want to swim along into the whiteness of the shining clouds where heaven

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