Transmission in Transition

Freeway roars more than ever,

not because it is a Monday.

With August time is pushed against A/C windows,

glaring about where blind spots signal danger.

Only congestion is quiet.

The speedway whines under the weight of grey.

The police siren screams in haste haphazardly,

with authority, a cymbal, on its path of pursuit

in order to keep mobilized migrations

inside the lines.

The fog rolls by, pushing through and cutting off

the idle sun.

A red-shifting light through diesel smoke

imposed speed limits as a dare,

to supersede a sense of departure,

with one eye

fastened to looking back,

The other I

travels light. 

Painting by Joseph Stella, 'Battle of Lights, Coney Island' (1913) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Our Lady Alexandria

What feels like Now is never heavy enough

to last longer than a Sunday.

Idle times like June, we tend to wander too far,

it takes august

to bring us back to routine.

Presently, reading.

Presently writing

Then and Now lying in front of me,

blurred by biography autonomously-

     whose voice is lost in the amplified volume

of imposition

     whose own prosaic tome is never true or tight enough

to carry the note all the way,

to cut the final folio, to fill the flyleaves.

More memory appalls dead weight

          one will carry to the cemetery, nary a soul should know  

Those things, flammable flashbacks attack hard back, unhinged

in carnation

in damnation

in citation,

My cover slowly singing, smoldering as I am oldering,

lighter 

Now (transparent)

on paper backs.

Painting By Juan de Echevarría (Bilbao, Spain, 1875 - Madrid, 1931) Born in Bilbao, Spain. Dead in Madrid. Details of artist on Google Art Project [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The dragonflies of August

And yet
how quickly we forget
that which are not ours
suspended outside of us
that snare our sound
held steady by a spell
we dutifully await
notice, complimenting
the color red.

Remembering something splendid
August by name, summer sprawlers
when warriorflies meet damselflies
nymphs and naiads
jolt in the sun propelling
in omnidirectional ambivalence
the hunted pauses in quiescence.

A blue clasher notes
royalty indigo with glints
of visual vibrations
that absorb you whole
by natural odonate order
of kindred carnivore.

In prismatic charisma
of holographic hovering
a resurrection of still
Sublime observers
primal movers of seasons
they have valid reasons
survival breeds
tellurian tenerals
that travel through time
unnoticed
by worm hole
defining translucence
to trapped terrestrials
helping us
recollect
our defected
their perfected
Augustine animus.



Image by By Jon Sullivan [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.