Mona Lisa does me proud by keeping her secrets in ceramic jars.
Mona Lisa soothes the crowds from bemusement,
By adding to their amusement, and the allure of mystery that has jarred decades.

Of course, providing that doves fly seaward, we’ll reach the end of time at about 11:11 tonight.
Make a wish. Then make the wish that your wish will come true.
Wish no ill on your fellow brother, unless your fellow brother has laid a pox on the door of your judgment.

Libra balancing the scales keeps them tipping,
But when she’s tipsy, oh then do we worry for justice, peace, and the ever prevailing method of legality in the modern world of indicted litigation.

When I was a little girl, I knew naught of words.
I said my thoughts like water shooting from adjustable hoses,
By expressing them in terms of color: I feel like the red in the center of a daisy today.
In terms of nature: I feel like the sun is happy today.
In terms of relationships: I feel like my friends need to play tag today.
But the linkage is: I feel like today.
But the linkage is: We don’t need the things in between.

But…in between then and now are gaping chasms of grief, that I will remain to reign over,
And tensile memories that details go to die in.
What strikes and tries me the most is the intermezzo playing of my many lifetimes,that feel so far along and short.
There are cracks in the door of my attic that let light shine through in dirty, rippling puddles.

Three black ravens will stare at me some day,
And you will question my worth, my gifts, and my pleasures.
I will question your need to know and laugh in your face,
Because what I know is something in color and never in words.