Pdlyons's ExplorationsThis A.M.
How does the sun shine through the window?
How does the barking dog enter?
How does the tips of our fingers touch?
When there are kings of demons and not demons
When there are mortals and not mortals
When there are thoughts and not thoughts
How can I make pancakes without coffee?
If I look deep enough into the window of night halos of kitchen light my own grey head and moving past that, who am I? The word play domino impressions, fragile memories fluctuating body soft hearted emptiness? And oh this morning, always morning hardly silent always noiseless belief is who I am restored repaired dutch boy diked, band-aids cabbages kings strings and ceiling wax. What I was taught must I be ever? Some days begin like this; dark windows beyond my reflection seeing nothing remotely me. This is the day of daffodils or maybe tulips? Small brown bag thirteen bulbs to bring to the cemetery. To plant for my mother and for my father. Does the flower seem less sweet because we know it someday will fade? There is no place I know thats still and yet to observe movement must not the observe stand still? This I know for sure; it’s earlier in the morning than I like and I still need to get up get dressed right now or else the day will get away.
 | Edward-David Ruiz on The woman in the moon by pd… |
| Edward-David Ruiz on why we like – erbacce-pr… |
| Edward-David Ruiz on Poem for All Seasons by pd… |
| Edward-David Ruiz on Glamour Stories by pd lyons… |
 | pdlyons on from NYC Sal A Manders |
