Friday, July 7, 2017

A poet in prose


"Always be a poet, even in prose." 
-Charles Baudelaire

Succinct                                   Finger words attempt to grasp the shape
                                                or solidify some things that matters
                                                enough to cast shadows.
Withheld itself                        Where we have both eyes
                                                and this simultaneous process of thingness,
                                                the space it takes when ones eyes are closed
                                                or looking too long at any thing,
                                                turns to creamains, a small pile, still smolders.
In rote repose                           Mind over matter is when matter takes hold
                                                of our mind and an argument ensues,
                                                this circular discourse becomes a deep rut,
                                                here we go again, making a smile with left overs.
Umbra                                     The darkest parts, those chunky photons assembled
                                                from all particulars and are open to letting the light
                                                expending the conservation in equal distribution
                                                of temperature into background
Where loss of certainty           as love and mild.
Makes one move around         Musical chairs taught us how to listen
                                                while in a hurry to save ourselves and
                                                change our point of view without preference
                                                for any place other than staying in the game.
Look                                        Listen.

Within                                      Many layers of glass make mirrors. 





Painting By Paul Fischer [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

No comments:

Post a Comment

And then...

  Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign,  at first...