From the train window I can see miles of Pines, they seem to go on forever. There’s a golden wolf howling at the moon, chanting to the midnight Gods. By morning that will give way to Palm trees and screeching Cicadas. Tonight the stars reveal the belly of the world  from which we all come.   What I have left is a photograph. Tell me night-time dreamer, why you hold so many secrets in your heart. When I look into your  eyes
all I  see is star dust.

94 thoughts on “Gold Dust

  1. Well darn! You did it again. Left me speechless. You conjure scenes, images, emotions, and wonder easily with the nibs of your magic pen, Rene. There are many elegant secrets in your second sight you unfold in the lines of your poetry. I do believe that when I look close into another’s eyes, there are confessions and memories mixed in the stardust.

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          1. It’s true, Rene. I can keep other people’s secrets until death but my secrets need to be shared. Mostly because there isn’t enough shelf space in my noodle for all that stuff. Thankfully, most of my commonly known secrets are hilarious confessions of my eccentric life. Totally harmless, unless you consider snort laughing an attack on public decorum. 😬😂

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          2. Yes indeed. My secret secrets are still secret because I can’t remember them. We had this code for being open about a specific subject. We called it open kimono. That gave me a gazillion hilarious ideas in my overactive brain. We could never get through the meeting after someone volunteered to open their kimono. 😝😳😲🙈

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          1. 🙂

            You too my friend. 🙂

            P.S Do me a favor please. 🙂
            Can you send a message to Resa
            and tell her that I send her a new micropoem I wrote for her and I, to collaborate. I send it to her yesterday and I just want to know if she received my email. 🙂 Thank you. 🙂

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