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Quick Scribbles – 002

                (1)

We have all loved,

In different ways —

The same bleeding love.

We have all suffered,

In the same way —

The lethal blows of love.

We all have

Partially lived, partially died

In its glorious name.

                (2)

Dropping the mask,

shedding the skin,

From our seat of rawness we must ask –

can we love each other

core to core,

Like day and night fusing at twilight?

(3)

The knife delightfully slits

an unsuspecting thumb,

In the tint of the trickle,

I see

the romance of deep red.

Even a mishap at the chopping board

can be oddly mesmerizing.

                  (4)

If I could find salvation

in my speaking,

blessed my word would be.

If the churning inside

could yield luscious cream

sacred my thought would be.

The poems I write

 will then become Zen stories.

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