Friday, April 16, 2010


The unusual is always welcome,
is alluring like a dream on waking,
which was strangely forgotten
and beguiling for that reason.

Ah, Regina...she is a presence
appearing and somehow not,
inscrutable like a moon's ghost
gliding on soft gravity.

Does she laugh out loud
when something funny happens,
or is she always smiling
like the gist of a koan?
Does she sometimes weep
tears streaming through arteries
of time's transient heart? Or...
does she sigh alone blue sighs,
like marbling veins in the stoic
sculpted form of a thoughtful angel?

Those like that!
She is unique, and she is
unusual. The soul she is
comes to art because she is
kindred to that pulse and color
moving in a flowered morning,
moving in impassioned paintings,
moving in an evening's music.

It is good that she is here
on this planet hanging briefly,
as time tocks out its dull strokes
so expected and so usual. Her time
is different, is complex, is startling
in its ephemeral bouquet.

when she shows her cloistered smile,
when like the moon's shyness might spin
round on a magical breeze...
a grace is shown to the sad world,
granting us a remembered glimpse
of an unfathomed dream.

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