QUIETING PATTERNS

Sexy swivel, i wish
you could see my hips
i spin the world from my eyes
there is a gentler beat than mine
and i am following

slowly head-whirl
lip-shapes
the back of my head
is a quieter place to look
arms outstretched
majestic comfortably lost
understated whirly-gig bliss,
rarely misses the base of my soul

this soothed sad pulsing
mould to fill,
place to relinquish
hope and effort,
and swivel my body
in quieting patterns,
the music allows me.

© Mark Sentesy

(e-poem)

SIMPLE

Despite clarity and brevity
simplifying...
sucks

© Mark Sentesy

(e-poem)

EVERY MORNING

warped through my window
and my frost
the sun
ignites on my wall

© Mark Sentesy

(e-poem)

A WAY HOME

I escape the normal,
a moment with coat and sunset
and i become a walk home.

© Mark Sentesy

(e-poem)

Intro:
By the Mississippi River after school.

_A_Little_Oversight_
Little kid
steps silently under the tree
at a run too far away to see his face
besides, silhouetted
he is an opaque thing
obstructing a bit of light
glancing off water

what a big tree!
we can rob it of its depth
rob it of everything
there is a city
crazy about trees
sacred and rare
and we, amoung these
have little in the way
of wonder, have twigs of respect
it is a river of gentle winds we ignore
a canyon with lowered walls
the tree has lost its character
and, god knows, humans relate to humans:
a tree without a face
is the shade we run into
and out of less an inkling
of what, we know
we cannot fathom
and cannot adore outside of our logic

and we are a little kid
stepping, at a distance,
silently under the tree.

© Mark Sentesy

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