Magnets

True to form

February astounds

How the stars and planets 

        align

For the sky 

       moods

Atmosphere as in

Invisible rules.

Where one pauses

suddenly and 

Often to notice 

The unseeables and

         unmentionables

Or as quiet and mystical

as the snow 

          topping the distant 

Ranges

And dissolving

Time

         Marches on. 

Painting by Albert Bierstadt (1830-1902), 'A Storm in the Rockies' c. 1866 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Bitter Me and Boris in February

Since it is February

my pens all lay in disarray atop my desk,

a box of tissues crouches underneath,

nearly empty on the fifteenth.

Twenty dollars, six gallons of gas,

radio streaming from Sirius, I try driving away the stillness.

Those bruised and patient pens will wait an eternity,

or February.

Nowhere are these thoughts not there.

I find serial murders of crows, low lying clouds 

hovering and bitter cold from below

all cast down in ochre light. 

I try to forget
any distinct lines

with clarity and save the cruelty 

for April.

Piercing eyes also translates 

into Truth

and the inevitable thaw, moving matters,

the fiery tears Fall with drowned dreams.  

Heavy, a serious wind is now winding down 

her watch and brevity makes beauty

of all passing. If you remember 

how purple was this February...

it must just be

Time

the words mixed

blood and ink.

Painting of Borris (Pasternak) beside the Baltic (1910), By L.Pasternak [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Counting Elephant Leap Years

That elephant over there,
kneels on the keystone,
reciting a thousand names
that run together.
Vedic sounds coated red,
through lucid mists
he said he stands
for love-
in thirty-two ways,
in twenty-nine days.

As it is customary
for February,
to drop in on dreams
and sow fertile desire
where wild light will
cast an epic tragedy.

When love grows,
that one over there named
Ganesha, strokes his rats hair
and dances on the tips
of his round toes,
spinning his chakras
and juggling icy hearts
he freezes a moment
with potential, spouting 

prisms of inertia

retracting all the
matterless time

resting on balance.

Strands of helmikuu,
pearly wisdom hung
around your neck,
possess and strangle
with the charm of love.
Toxic lust set in an 

amulet of broken trust.

Ganesha says Love 

cannot survive the possibility 

of a  moonless month.
He comes to say,
only February has space
and time to give and gets
to jump all over juxtapositions

of weight and gravitate in

centripetal passion.

Crucified by greed, 

immaterial layers; 

the rose, crystallized rocks.
His trunk is too full
to maintain refrain or 

balance on shaky propositions
only to land on sharp ultimatums.
Peircing reality, I fell hard.

I was left alone with red.
Ganesha left the room.
It was all a dream,
I saw upon waking
my blue body still aching.

I kept the pretty pearls.

Image painted by elephant in Thailand, uploaded By Deror Avi (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Feature image (top) By Udunuwara at English Wikipedia (Transferred from en.wikipedia to Commons.) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.