as brick

pockets of nothing,

waiting - eternal

as each turn - ties

upon any side of

death -


reaching for a blade of feel -

a slice within the cube,

of you

to be bleed,

either, into life or

death - ?


wandering feel - in care to the

fingertips - as lips

in kiss - one onto nothing -


onto -



a city more then,

and, never quite real -

is a wall builder

brick on brick,

as brick -

till sickly it rises -

disguises -

all the fine lines of birth,

forever new

as never past the arching blue



who - might you think

that you could try

to stand, your face; your breast -

always to the sky -


- jude




tone of age


living; a moment breather

woman alone and never

earth weaver - she's

a carver of movements

in time

family held

but singularly grown

in the tone of age

not born

never dying

regardless of trying

she's a ; alive -


ice paths who won't -

but to remember

mountains carved

till the memory

is lost

and yet ringed clouds

are of occasion

who don't forget


she knows a child, seen

between two growing

trees -

smiling, pleased -

she'll wave as she

comes, and passes


aged beyond -

lying just before

just in

she's a woman

not -

a dreamer waiting to begin

no learning, she can swim

of the earth

- - -

yet, of birth!


- jude




hard loving woman - broke


the river, in its forward run

follows a continual

return - barely

within -


but never quite beginning

sheís a woman in

as a child trying too hard to swim

selling herself - yet of - property

always - sold

;in its non-sellable state -

dreams failing to relate

on rocks - lined straight


and silent to the running sands

of her fate -

destined to - or;

yes not!


forgotten child - never again to

be born -

the walls were long

ago torn -

its open edges

willingly worn - nothing feels


hard loving woman - broke

with the child

who is she

and dancing now

slow -

reflecting off rocks -


still dreaming

but just a dream -


- jude




river running


death said, "hey, this is

your bed -

come on over,

to a - sleeping with me"

and the covers look



water burning, summer storm

is planting leaves

on my sores,

i'm running

down, these

unpaved roads


no lamp

breathing and damp

just before a morningís,

itching strong -

to belong

for itís second, of me...


river running

and, is cold as empty

carrying me - in blue down

riding in - long

yes - and free

wind water,

you and me -

reaching round

& turning worn -

river running,

you and me


- jude




a turning man


cold wind blowing,

on an evening black

woman - growing


but leaving the sack


long rain pouring

and the unborn children,

must die

a cloudless storm

an empty plain

a pocket full of rain

a dying stain

and no longer

the refrain


freedom's morning

rising just alone

man - walking


now tying the sack

open -

long poem written,

and these untouched dreams

must fly

a mountain's view

a free eye

hair touched with wind

a laughing try

and no longer

to explain


a turning man

a child

full of gold

the smile

the rivers are cold

and trying

yet he'll dance on the


and all for the love of rain

and no refrain


oh! Ė no! ---

- jude




black sun walker

between the woman,

and the child

stands in motion

a dream

sighted to dance

and within

more then seen

the ballerina,


black sun walker - the woman

set adrift; a skyís


but whose fountain

water flows and

the child drinks

rocks upon her feet

the wind, a naked street

knows her hair,


- broken cares -

in trying stares

dressed with the rest

and perfect,

but yet -

eternal eyed sky -

and long in its

free - more room to be

and breathing -

soft without an

echo without a sound

draped above the ground -

though for a moment

though for she -

freedom to be,


- jude


broken mirrors

broken mirrors -

wind blown dreams

female stands on a shore

but alone

reaching finds her

more then breathing

fire earth-streams


star-soil beams


child's running - from

the noise


too many people sunning

on her stories,

still yet to be told -


dreaming woman

no one hears her


between the stone,

and the trees

whispering winds call

through her

sorrows -

leaving rain, on

the window sill


open window - storms in the


child born - just to


man in the distance

nothing quite real

ancient moments

trying to steal


broken mirrors,

wind blown dreams

woman stands on a river

but alone ...


- jude




but for the mountainís fright

women dressed black -

seen clear in

a voided mist

and movement slow

in either growth or reaching

upon me

she came,


i turned around - to look

but no name - with her


through me,

in me

of me - sharing -not eyes

but the freedom-flies,

of our eternal sighing

and till she moved,


she took her man

in, away they swam

till she accepted

her breath within, my


no longer

but; for there it was

as i knew her

seeing of her blind sight


drifting light - but for the

mountainís fright

in blue -

colored deep -

somewhere true ...


- jude




either queen or stage

you cry woman

and maybe - for

the woman, not yet

you never dreamed of

open skies through winter,


only - off your long - ever lost


a child who died for the fear of death

and still before the fear of birth


child - still you yearn to return


with no sword in hand

till again the sand - falls open


your empty grave -

start running - across past

the sand

find your birth,

between two trees - in

space of open land -


dig open your

grave still - awaiting - in


solid & strong - not to be


empty by - a circled waveís

stealing wind

die the death


who waits -

always relating on itís stand,

steps before your fate -

'die solid'

into birth -

for reason,

for reason of birth

for the woman who waits,


the woman who is



and only forward can you return

as death is a burn -

either to cripple

or kill

and free to die

on the only, of your lying

dead -


on the question of birth -

(to have bore life - if free

to remember

if free to bare)


either queen or stage -

as your card is death

so is the rage,

of a turn


- jude



with stones for your fall?

to look into her face,

to see

from this stranger, and with me

a death

of we

carried on the sea of life

so short

; and though eternal

but no

in empty gardens - does

light, ever

quite grow

and color sewn into a

limited beginning

,as never quite able

to know


a circle etched in eyes

met - whoís

to be,

and yet, never

weaves no time for good-byes

a hello- is never


or to be

all in a moment to see


and no more can you greet


on the ... on the empty

yet all - scream hope

for a bind in


no! perchance to not

as for a moment, you change


just any light of breath


a filled room

and alone - you move

and in silence, moan

till the moon

catches you free,




live man,

as the child,

when you can

touch on the touch

you'll know to die

don't lie!


do you lose

how to cry !


- jude



born and broken!

broken child,

just too young to know the


just too young to have

heard the tear

and she grows into woman

yet where comes her


to bare into life

even her breath

and of all the children

yet to be


and broken!


circles -

do they even care anywhere

to go

the fetus - buried within

the snow

the mother - buried within

a winterís

frozen cold

and always before the


summer burns

who stains

the lost in tumbling grains


a non-breathing



so, what asks them

ever to try!


as waiting the children

to die

from hope - they give only


from dreams - they leave only

whys -


but the sky waits - as silently the wind

relates ...

- jude




naked : perfection


where hides she

standing, seemingly un-ridden by

walls -

responding to calls

but not

to the eternal

sliding of inner falls -


not painted as woman,

or as child

she stands - but always

in dress -

naked, her skin is

taut -

clothed - her tired jeans

refuse wrinkles,

she is a soft, in light structure

pouring fact,



who is she

a silent breath, speaks below

the line of solids -

and even,

yet too quiet it flows -

touching, leaving little

to, no

reminder of itís touch -


quiet she passes -

as yet ; quiet she stays

- - -

asking for rhythm,

is her naked motion

but where it stays


is there a play

lost on the cast of



lying naked - as her man,

she doesn't hear

their ... can -


as her sweat rolls,


as her sweat left to stay -



- who is she -

does she sleep -

as, what are the boundaries

of her

silence -

free - ?

who are the walls

of the

naked ; perfection,

in her skin -


- jude



before island meets the sea...

yes - moon-lit-cave

whoís home to stay -

playing little girl

on a woman's stage

painting light - painting their eyes

painting nothing

who feels

and is the page

woman -

she stands

before no mirror - as they have


in the lingering on,


hands upon her breasts -

dreaming - as

she forgets to dream -

broke - yet

unbroken on the

scream never to

come -

she walks -

feeling ugly

feeling clean

feeling beauty in between

in the mirror of the moon -

no child plays-

in plead for a father rooted -

no woman - stays

asleep on the bed of stains,

so long ago dried -


outside she cried -

give me -

but free : but walls -

yet tears linger

inside - unheard -

to hide their

trying - for

the hoping, where

ancients snore -

who is she - alone inside

the rain -

forgetting where rainbows, stain -

swimming for a shore -

tree safe

yet sanded - where

might her footprints be seen

by she -

forgetting for the sound she doesn't

make -

wondering on mistakes,

so crowded and alone


"stranger, were you friend -

remember me"

but who really? leads to the

empty shadow

behind her - she?


a woman bleeding to the

sky -

wanting but a moment of


while hands still reach

to swallow,

in her presence

her blood

wiping their hands

on her nakedness

wanting but a moment of

she -


who is the fear

that stands

hidden in the darkness

on the plain

face against face against face -

in quiet deep below lives

the trace

within the woman

below the child

ignoring her bodyís cravings

for an island -

dreamt pure - with eyes now

stained she reaches up

so small

naming what tall -

before what's yet to be born - from itís birth

still waiting

yes, for she -

yet - but for who

is yet to die

not from the lie

but from the



she must see the hand

hear the sand

yet woman must stand alone

before the island meets

the sea ...


- jude




woman unknown

it's a quiet evening

and the night not quite,

walks on colors soft

speaking tales of feel

round through my window,

rhyme beyond

a city's door


her name returns from more

then one place

maybe - more then one


her eyes sit deep atop of

a burning silence

as how forever long is

her hair

yet - have i ever met her

here beneath the

silent words of

an eveningís sky -


- jude





when it's time to turn,

or time to choose

no one wants the dream

for real -

no one wants nothing, you

can't steal

the child dreams,

awakes -

just to turn away

on the dream -

coming real

on the roads in the reach

to feel -


- jude




as the sirens of herself call

a black river in motion

flows - hard,

often cold

between the woman

and her long

ago - shed dress -


somewhere, lost in the tree

a smile smiles

not happy - not sad

but knowing

with eyes, in wait to open -


he calls & her body

remembers - a forever-reaching

but warmth -

yet, the river

mirrors she in

dress - a warmth she owns

through a surface chill -

she falls,

into the blackness

of her own reaches - growing;




dressed -

she swims - but knows not

how - stops to dream

of the man calling

and stumbles - and for breath -

fear - and the cold threatens to

return -

the dress doesn't tear,

will she fear itís wear -


below mountains - through rapids

capped white -

her hand reaches - but for

which shore

as a man calls

so does a fingered hand

wait -


dressed - her fingers can

only hear

they hold no ears to fear -


a hand in hers,

walks towards the

reaching mountains - yet

it's her dress who

carries her warm


as the dress is she, it need not ever

call to return -

walking ...

yet as the hand yearns

in her hand -

can she continue

to remember


                   - jude




in a stopped reaching - she breathes of freedom

in night - she stood alone,

hidden from

as between -

the statues who move themselves

as hers

turning on the fear

of the too quiet

sounds - tearing on the bounds

of an only she

- naked in water, she touches

feeling someone there -

voicing a silence who belongs -

a moment that


from she - she is warm and

bathed in her

own motionís waves - who wake

through her skin -

she reaches out - into

the nothing...of?

and doesn't quite see -

nothing can only be

but what -

what is the taste of eternity

whose fingers reach from the sea -


turns - in water

growing cold -

woman chained naked

upon the rocks - her scars pained

by the breaking of

salted water -

awaiting what hero's


forgetting the rains

and chains who are

but stains

to be washed away


snug in dress

shivering no more past the break

of time


drifting unknown

on the second


she wanders on whose fingers



again timed

she begins blindly - to remember

where is


blinking -

she stands alone...



- jude




but the poet; who knows he can sing

a dark voice;


seeks of me -

boiling water, till

real seeps from the veins of

my breath -

whose silent footsteps finger their


towards the

paths of death -

hearing who near

and all the rest -


the poet tries

as in the skies,

on the wind

alone does he walk -

with never that silence

to hide the stains -


the black sun, prevails -

full, on sails

across the tries -

of creatures who

begin -

blowing streams of energy

like sin

for the blind ears to hear-

yet, someone -

stands also black

against the bark of

a reflection searching

clear -

- thought as a shadow, and

never seen -


eggs - left on the nest

dry - dead by a golden

sun -

a mother who could only fly,

needed to run!


in the cave of crystal sights

he sleeps

through the voices of eternal

flights -

once to open his eyes


but a formless night -


a dream within the flames

of cold -

who grows younger as he

grows old

who; grows old

but the poet

who knows he can

sing -

lying alone

in eternityís cave...


- jude




islands seen, know to fly...

from - his child, born

second to she -

who in she tried to create

a - real

living through

a woman - who has known

the fear

of to see her first

child - born

of her - worn,

to her -


what name can we ever name

what is, before it becomes -

that never can it be!


she wanted not, but wouldn't

let go -


she tried turning patterns on -

but not in to -

painting time over

from her body

yet - where only her body must

see -

where she fears the dying tree -

to remember

on a now never born

but paint, pealing

with the wind

of her i ...


her fear!

to leave the island, and it

will die -


(she is the island, anchored

in the sky )

who gave her, an earth island


as whose home, did she refuse

to watch die -


painting time over

from her body

dreaming to control

what is free

screaming naked, in the corner

she has made

but can she die

in the island lie

accept the blood of her birth

but can she breathe

from her only island


which gives breath to the 'i',

the island of the sky -

alone...she is of the sky

but there are fingers

in the wind -

from hands who eternally begin

- - -

islands seen - know to fly


- jude




of a moment of real ...

burning stairs on plains of

faces - tearing on separate

pieces -

the rage of unspoken tears -

who grow through

the years -

and so tired is the woman

as pieced through

time -

on different nows of rhyme,


and so many nowheres to be

till she isn't -

lost in a pool,


so soft is - its non-grabbing

eternal sound

as a silent growth - in all

energy asking to be

lives in light

spelling what sight -

till - oh! a tired woman

can tear no more -


in stare - on the forgotten scene

of lines who lean

but just beyond


decisions in stay

and her smile -


just on the feel -

of a moment of real


- jude




between moon screams & earth dreams

deep behind the windows

near a reflecting tree

a tired woman lies

worn -

so ever long on the, hard to be

a candle burns silent,

in itís ever tearing

flame -

as tears called without, the freedom

of rain

pain, unseen -


colored soft in her own mirrors of

light - somewhere alone -

she no longer dreams

but sleeps awake


and from where, long across an

oceanís break -

time to take

water in your lap

to roll - in stroll

of what rhymeís

movement -


between moon screams


earth dreams - water is the edge

of motion

as it lies eternally

- within


waves roam never quite to begin


what woman knows through

the sand

as each grain counts itself in pass

upon her fingers -

rooted to the sky - do leaves

wither and die


- jude




through the door eternally, yet need just moments to be...


stretched - so long through

the night - i

roamed i -

a flight of myself

lost beyond the

hard-wood chains

and ever sharp stairs -


she sat on the distance,


and breathed in the air

as i moved

quiet and eternal, hands passed

as smiles clasped

on the moment


a voice broke - as lined colors

choked the darkness

she rose

forgetting which way

to walk into

another's day -


he rose on the sun

to move with the run of

time -

reaching out,

he felt her wake

waves continuing to break

saw her through

distance near

yet where's the smile ...


as he smiles

as he roams

through sleep -

awake ...

eternally just beyond the break


- jude




living through the sand . . .

little woman, living tall

raining strings

through clouds light

on song

of soft - of hard



on the often of whose all -


growing things

the sings of day & sight

carving rocks into


pouring sand on the street

while, watching footsteps

clasping movement - across as feet,

while the hand smiles to meet


remembering the night,

she's a woman with a man

growing while she can

and somewhere more

and maybe, the mother dream

hides the scream - somewhere below

a picture done in white,

as all the while, her breathing

grows strong

through the open bleeding


the beating of her pulse into his ...

- just on the drifting of sleep -


drawn small

yet - a woman

living through the sand


- jude


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