Literary Vegan

Maybe the stars are named But some can find the constellations  In people -  The connecting shapes and lights Of like souls Drawn together By an artist's brush. C. LJ July 2020

How fine, how elegant and fragile Are the ink lines I make on parchment My words Are yet  Warriors, Carrying their message over the void. So too, do I balance my feet along them With poise Knowing at any moment my line could Break. C. LJ 2020

There was always a ghost  Following me I can outwit spectors  I said, you said And the shadow seemed to Fade Wearing her jewels I walked Forward, lifting my head She was no longer behind me I had become the ghost instead. C. LJ 2020

I see petite porcelain figures On the chessboard of France Learning to dance I take them in my hand Tiny, refined, lined with gold Cold crowns Against my skin That fades in the torchlight Of dark, English stones. C. LJ 2020 

I walk in  Nature Not to explore the  Outside But to remember  Myself. C. LJ 2020

My mind is like a hive Full of bees. I can't make them sleep, So I invite them  With ink To circle the paper for me. Then I marvel at the  Shapes. C. LJ 2020