Saint-Dié-des Vosges

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The soft evening
lights the paths
we follow
through a bell
of silence.

The bees residing
along the way,
speak of a higher honey
than words convey.

It carries nearness
to our souls.

© PLH

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Touch

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Like a Sea Anemone
my skin reacts
to the top
of your fingers.

Anticipating
the slaking
of a deep-felt hunger
in the basal disc
that glues me to existence.

© PLH

Perspective

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For ants the world is greater:
grains of sand like pebble-stones,
grass appears to be a tree
and a river resembles the sea.

Do lobsters think
fish can fly,
Plato’s cave
in mind.

For us the world
is slightly smaller,
because we share
and I can call her.

© PLH

Paradise Regained

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Cormorants sit like Satan,
on top of the knowledge tree,
like unholy fruit standing,
where the light should be.

The cathedral of my soul,
contains those dark corners,
where stained light will not stroll,
only occasional mourners.

The sporadic steady light.
comes from you and me
sparkling in the twilight,
it is just enough to see.

© PLH

Praying

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Praying to the future,
on moments to happen
with sufficient stature
for my happiness to wrap in.

Waiting in anticipation
with all my senses
poised for a temptation
constructed from inferences.

Nothing outside myself to pray to,
I am a transcendental amputee,
living off internal revenue
produced by you and me.

© PLH

Meeting

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The day is silent
like the voice of
your naked skin,
calling forward
the bloodstream
in my responsive,
erectile tissues
until it quivers
in becoming
a burrowing beast.

© PLH

Pearl

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It seems to me
we have been living
for the past ten years
in a state of punctuated
equilibrium, to my mind
the most desirable state of being.

You are the pearl
within the oyster of my mind.

©PLH