| Carol Borzyskowski |
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| Longing Dear Brigid, You make me want to paint my face with earth colors, red rock canyon stripes down my cheeks, word warrior. Peacock hues announce my eyes, forehead smeared sungold, willow green stripes down my shoulders, while opal moons glow from my chest. Brigid, you make me want to open my veins letting ink flow down my hands, dripping from fingers painting blue black symbols: Creating form from the void. Clanging cymbals arouse the unaware, moving the conscious. Brigid, you make me want to free my song send it soaring among the clouds encircling the globe with vibration. Pure words so piercing the globe is hushed and suspended. Life begins anew in admiration. Ahh, Dear Brigid, You only come to me in dreams arousing cerebral activities that cause my lids to flutter while my body refuses to rise to your touch. Words tumble Words tumble wake me Dear Brigid... |
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