Greener grasses

Pre-fixed upon how

the rooster breaks his silence

atop a fence post.

Painting by Ada Thilen (1852-1933) 'Rooster and chicken', in [Public domain].

Found art

Another day rolls by
                             and I
along with it
                             incubate.

I try
to focus
on a
single
spoke
           in the blur of spin
one catches
                    light,
and squeezes
it
into
sound
            high above
the audible range
            one carries a note,
and belts out
                      lashing with it,
create, wait, create, wait, create, wait
                      bare-backed
swinging both ways,

naturally
and only
                     through the gait
                     known distinctly
as your
body
and work
as an address.
                     
A watch swings alongside
reminding me of the beat.

It is time to hibernate.

I count the cat's eyes
           staggered and lining up
in the middle of the street
until the glare
broke
into poetic little pieces
like litter.





Artwork by Robert Delaunay [Public domain], 'The Tower and the Wheel' c. 1912-1913, located in the Museum of Modern Art.

Slang-ing rocks

It's like
they were trying to keep up with the Jones'

Who are They? 
Like the Kardashians?

Okay, no. It's more like 
a bad case of the Me Too's!

The MeToo movement? Who
did what to you?!

No, no. It was all 
about the iWant-

Want what?

A Tesla, an Apple watch, a DNA Test, 
a viral video-

You do not.

No, of course not.
I live for the struggle. 

Your expressions
literally, make no sense to me-

Nonsense! I just hit the side of a barn
like two birds fleeing the hurled stone!

The Jones' barn?

Spot on. 




Image from Missouri History Museum, photographer unknown, dated circa 1901 in Public Domain.

Witness whiteness

Who is watching?

I feel-

Enough.
It was
-not needed
              any more
Love
         you sooo much
rains    candy,
Sugar name drop not

Justify
Too

it is complicated,
intricate, entanglement-
through
close contact-
intertwined
and inevitable.

You see. You do.
You are-I am too.

Kiss me
Aloud
if you can

in this tension
of Presently,

Let me
             land-

(softly) Held,
holding

your gazing heart
that embers
                    Into

Ashen skin
before

All of This
living in sin
bore witness
To.

Finally,
just

what do you wish
to be called?


Painting by Franz Dvorak, c. 1927 in [Public domain].

hand-eye (Hi-Q)

Helpless is not-for 

All Beings in need, a hand

points, name, friend or foe. 

Painting by Parmigianino, 'Portrait of Fransesco Mazzola' 16th century in [Public domain].

Assets minus liabilities

It causes a sharp pain
in my chest
to witness
the kitten perched
on the edge of the
couch
watching television-
while the people
are occupied
with other screens

It pangs my stomach
thinking about
the income of
a Poet
who wastes not
a scent or moment
to dwell
upon
the wealth of
interruptions
like pangs
spine shriveling-
the Book won't come
Out
I shout, Inside
voices affirm
the lame excuse-

Not saying

the churning sense
of burning
ears or pants,

Love has been simmering
on the back of the stove
while I wove a couple of loose ends
and made a sweater
without a head-hole,

Thus
confirming my ineptitude
and such
as feeling the need
to Escape
the bleeding clutches
of Loved ones closest
to touch,
the spot
which widens where
no treasure is ever safe
keeping.

The kitten purrs
from this place
smiling
finally
noticing me
watching him
stretch
and grow.


Artwork: By John William Godward, 'Idleness', c. 1900 in [Public domain].

'cat purring' from Wikipedia:
"Although true purring is exclusive to felids and viverrids, other animals such as raccoons produce purr-like vocalization. Animals that produce purr-like sounds include mongoose, bears, badgers, foxes, hyaenas, rabbits, squirrels, guinea pigs, tapirs, ring-tailed lemurs, and gorillas while eating. Animals purr for a variety of reasons including to express happiness, or fear and as a defense mechanism. It has also been shown that cats purr to manage pain and soothe themselves. Purring is a soft buzzing sound, similar to a rolled 'r' with a fundamental frequency of around 25 Hz. This sound occurs with noticeable vibrations on the surface of the body, varies in a rhythmic pattern during breathing and occurs continuously during inhalation and exhalation. The intensity and length of the purr can also vary depending on the level of arousal of the animal."

Blue blood

The heaviest ink
a writer bleeds
are a Mothers Eulogy
and the vows
etched for Matrimony.

These marks,
deeper than tattoo
annotate and commemorate
an expression of Life and Risk
All
Love to Lose.

We may say
nothing aloud
that sounds like what
It is
to trap butterflies
with a lariat.


Artwork credited by W.T. Benda, cover of Life magazine September 1923 in [Public domain].

Beading

The wind breaks
promises

and I storm off
in bitter retreat,

sucking out the sour
isolation...

And the shoreline
waves
recognizing its relationship
with the timeline

inevitable as the tides turn
over

Revealing
what has been there
and who is dancing at the edge
unafraid
of falling in

for a pearl.

It comes in waves;
pain, sleep, sound, this feeling
the crashing is closer

becoming brackish
tumultuous and turbid for a trace
of gold
in every full glass
we see through

The warm breeze
blew away
our differences.

How easily mist
the rising and falling
of all things

may be made
more
than solid or whole,
as in part

of us
is always drowning

and becoming
one and the same.


Painting by Władysław Wankie (1860-1925) 'Fisherwomen on the shore', [Public domain].

Duck, duck, & Goose

I see you ducking & hiding

as if this could keep you safe

of course, most enjoy a good game

of hide & seek-

except when there is no-

body looking

for you

the pain sets in,

nesting in the corners

where you have stashed secrets.

Fleeing from danger

is both fight & flight

instead of planting ones

self in the belief of growth & resilience

where you are

is never where you choose to be

there is disregard

for the hidden

wanting to be found

under a shroud of a woven

textiles you gathered,

that felt like encryption,

yet your secrets strobe across

all of our four heads

illuminating the dark valleys

spreading across your scape. 

Painting by Carel Fabritius, 'Hera hiding during the battle between the gods and the giants' c. 1643 in [Public domain].

Our glasses (hourglasses)

I read in front of them.
I was reading anyway.
They never read.
Even behind my back.

I waited to be sure.
I was never sure
I waited too long.

Liars, thieves, and cheaters
are three of a kind.
I had them all
in hand,
and made a row of bushes
with the tangled vines
for Privacy.

Alone with ourselves
imposes ego as though
we should learn
from mistakes.

The golden rule
is soft, diamonds are forever
handed down
and the rain, perpetually
planting seeds.

The fine print, or return policy
for such a random act
sounds like wind strangled
in narrow channels
but is your paper receipt.

I figured it out
wrong but somehow came to
the correct conclusion
all the same.

There is a kind of
influence, with open palms
that holds no harm
to heat but crystallizes
in salt.

As far as
we can see,
All is in front of us,
there was no plain day
that would be lived this way.



Painting by John Dickson Batten, 'The garden of Adonis' c. 1887 in [Public domain].

And In the Fourth Place

*1st*
Nice guys do not race.
Finishing is not the End
All-Be Told to Run.
*2nd*
It may be You have
Anxiety from lack of
Things to want-not Now.
*3rd*
Enstranglement is
too desirous of a Thing
that breathes not-Life.
*4th*
You got what you want
in the past tense, now what more
does Tension require?




Painting by Louis-Marie Austissier (1772-1830), 'Lady with Basket filled with fruits', c. 1814 in Public Domain. 

Stages of Petrification

 Out of our cradle

endlessly rocking

so soothing to suck and swing,

we be, Wives to the House

we working women

with clean fingernails.

Rural and dirty, illiterate, failed to be-

come organized and erected,

built and projected by chart.

Fortunate: Educate the ‘poor’,

Entitle the ‘rich’ by degrees and adding zeros

we carry on, pound for pound.

In War

Peace. Conflict. Stability. Conflict.

War, Again. The sequel.

Work harder, work longer, work smarter, weave your

World Wide Webs

Catch the drift and save it for later.

Faith

Science

Tradition

Armed men have arrested the development

of reach, nucleic re-armament fires up

and we women make mud pies

with what we have.

Grow food, “make” food, “buy” food

and storage for later.

Trees to homes to paper planes,

Origamic Plastic Pyramids

surmounting slag on landfill,

a slippery slope, a slide-show.

Bare feet babies scramble to fill shoes

made from recycled tires

and the miles

felt without insoles.

It is too late to change courses.

Adapt. Improve. De(con)struct. It was all made

for you

to find a swing of things, how high

may be gotten before

going all the way around

giving blood

blisters from holding our chains

too tight.

Image of photo By Nikater (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Petrified Forest.

A simile smiles

A close-up of a crater with concentric tiers
denoting depth
except light years away
                            -it was not taken today
Resembling rings signalling ages in decades
of diurnal decay-
A natural atmosphere for well-being.
                            Change occurs in tears,
eternal and sometimes with a why.



Image By NASA/Johns Hopkins University Applied Physics Laboratory/Carnegie Institution of Washington [Public domain], Rachmaninoff crater via Wikimedia Commons.

Blue faces of things

On that very day,
in another Place,
it was more than
a later hour-

the heavy things
balancing on edges
would finally come down
creating a gentle breeze
over Here

and the nose would pick-up
and strong sense of Elsewhere,
only meaning
there was Poetry
being read in corners.

From the lips,
this music dips between
inkling and imagination
like a murmuration,
how things gather in ceremony

for harmony's sake.
And yet,
all the anonymity allowed
a tiny voice
to move through
this heavy Time,

passing on the thought of
levitation and how it was
never up to us
to do anything about the
thinning air out There.




Painting by Harriet Backer (1845-1932), c. 1883, in Public Domain.