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1.
Was born early July
if not late June,
his moods as the stars said
are synchronised to the Moon.
I came across him
in those moments
he was not wearing his lunar laugh
and the dampness of his melancholy
could almost wrap me like a wet blanket.

2.
The moth that he was
flying from candlelights
to streetlamps
lured me to follow;
my own skills
in taking off the ground
and kissing fire
tested to the limits.
The gossamer wings
of his fancy
took me to the dreamiest trips
to the far, far isle of Greece.
I knew then that he truly cared
when his words reflected back
the emotions I inked.

3.
One night
I printed some of his writings
then packed up to leave for home.
Under my coat I shielded
all his masterpieces
from the humid outdoors.
But then an uncaring stranger bumped me
as I was crossing the street,
the papers flew
like crazy white doves
under the darting raindrops;
some pages seemed to chase the cars passing,
some went to a dark alley...
None was left except for a hope
that he has not unpublished yet
like the other poet.


4.
As hopes always fail me:
I saw his page the next day
bare like a looted apartment.
His last log-in was three-sixteen a.m.
twenty-seven September,
the very moment when
he was perhaps tearfully clicking Xs.
Oh, he who has tended my poetry
suddenly weeded out all his.

5.
Then
I thought about the threads...

Oh, yes the threads!


------
*************************************
crystal face I kiss
tongue tastes like sweet cold rain
I fall into pond




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Comments

The following comments are for "2 July ~ 27 September"
by peterpaulino

Peter...
Such a good poem. I want to say bittersweet, but that isn't quite the right word, this is far deeper than that. I am relieved to read something from you

Darlene

( Posted by: dareva [Member] On: September 29, 2004 )

Nice Write Peter
And WELCOME back!!!!!!!! You were gone far too long and sadly, sadly missed. I love this piece. The imagery is astounding.

Always,
Char

( Posted by: Char [Member] On: September 30, 2004 )





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