Cursive turns.

Cursive comes close,
it almost describes it.
Rather it is the mode,
the rotation of its characters.
That is, how it rotates,
cursive closely imitates.

But the comparison is flawed,
a subtle yet essential distinction.
Cursive letters loop and close,
their paths calibrated, ileal.
My curves are different,
they're untraceable, capricious, luminous.

So my soul's turns are unique.
But for now the pen tip's flourish
must suffice.

Cloud Cult.

beckoned to fall swiftly
leaning over rails and bridges
clouds drift in sequence
they desire my form
and I theirs
I stand on the edge
requesting a swap
they all agree
they prefer to remain anonymous and plural
which is just fine with me
I prefer anonymity as well
who wants to be a cloud if anyone knows you?
It's best to float by without notice
casting shadows and rain
watching tiny people
hastily, frenetically try to cope
with the burdens of earth-life
surely I'm a citizen of Earth myself
only my world is miles above pain
above confusion and enmity and coarseness
I am no longer a coarse being
my molecules are more a loose association
clinging water, lighter than air
brushing by mountains, amazonian treetops
I swell as I sweep across still lakes and rivers
my form is now bloated, my shade is now gray
as winds whip me upwards
I feel fit to burst
a thunderclap, and I fall apart
millions of fragments flung downward
gravity's urgings have won out
endless sensation as I plink on a pond
I splash against branches and dribble down leaves
I wash across playgrounds, swingsets and schools
and as I strike the soft sweet earth
I feel at home, my cycle is complete

Circus Love Triangle

The fiddle player dreams
of a cartwheeling bandit
his rolls and turns are strong and graceful
her light hands hold with tenderness close
the steel strings, the new bow, a gift of affection
the gossamer sparks, a web of light splayed
as the small rapid fingers
are dancing in rays
as the evening sun lingers
she pines as she plays.

Her meek bright heart shutters
as chin clasps violin
a glint in her eye, as she watches him soar
the strongman's advances intense and denied
a circus love triangle, her fiddle their pace
but her one true love can with such ease turn a wheel
a flip-twisting full tuck
as she plays, his soul tilts
his tight landing stuck
as her dulcet tone lilts.