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ear to Endymion
Oh, to remember such
unspoiled kinship with the divine,
where even the wind was a companion
and silence spoke in full sentences.
Perhaps this poem isn’t just
a backward glance but a gentle invitation—
to return, not in time, but in spirit,
to that meadow of soulfulness
where love was once our native tongue.
Some part of us still listens
to the rustling leaves, hoping
the gods haven’t stopped calling.
Emoion guided effortlessly
Emoion guided effortlessly alongside the giddy-up of roaming chariot college professors
peace, pot, tequila shot
Jesus loves us, stoned or not
Endymion sold his moonlit
Endymion sold his moonlit silence to a symposium of galloping academics who mistook the meadow for tenure.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver