The Monster's House (D.O.D. 2022)

 

We called it 'The Monsters House'

First 

Because it had no windows and was made of concrete

It had a lighthouse tower

Only a tiara on tiny red lights to warn planes

In fog and like May

Was always in thick blankets 

Of grey days stacked

On holidays most years 

There was some decor

As if it could fit in

With the community

It stood on the Pacific Coast

Line and you could draw a line 

Home from any spot

Within range

Like Babel

It spoke of neither here

Nor there

A power plant

It became powerless,

Nothing like plants

Holding sun

I tossed out my anchor

With the security of pillars

Standing strong

Eternal and moral

You can guess 

How it crumbled

Like sand

Decommissioned, dethroned

And deleted

From the horizon

As the world spun

On and on

I stood

Still

Ashes go nowhere

Nobody will remember

A solid building

Of imagination.

Image: Self, taken in front of Monster's House (Cbad-Tamarack) March 2020 (D.O.D.-date of destruction)

Still life (goes on)

The canvas bled

the day we wed

all color

draining 

the ocean

as a witness 

softly eroding

the world under (our) toes

the rain holds its breath

heaven knows

white noise

soothes, 

sometimes crashing, breaking-

promises, hearts 

sharp words into mulched glass

Barefoot

I am

slipping away

and alone at the altar

Only a silhouette

before the sun

blinding me 

as the man of my dreams

Sandman, Shadowman

roll back into

the fog bank offshore

Off the shelf

broken sand dollars

lie still and stacked

unspent

only I notice the omen

among the flowers

and painted pictures and poses, 

as if 

a ring

holds on

to promises 

or runs 

thin 

and over diluted...

Only cycles remain.

I left the return

of Spring. 

He was gone,

long before

the painting

finished. 

Photo credit: me of me