Venus visits

Lying here

In darkness,

That is never heavy enough,

I lift the leaden pen

Towards tissue paper sheets,

The scratching sometimes helps-

But it doesn’t get to it

There is no focus

Under this solar eclipse.

I mark this occasion,

With singed retinas,

A scar to never forget

The sight-

It was just the words

That found me weak and feebly forgetting

My lines and knots,

Loops and circularity, entanglement and

Coincidence,

Felt as a brush of the lash, a butterfly effect

Of heavenly bodies.


Drawing By From public domain book, Solar eclipse, Corona 1870 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Sleeping suburbia

Suburban street night lights

show collarless cats on the dusky prowl

for others and Friday night laughter, squeals,

leak out over the rooftops.

Venus loosens her belt

of lavender lingerie.

It is called, Good Evening.

A front door closes, somewhere

down the block-moan and thud,

then a dog speaks up,

in protest or jest.

Kerrr-clunK, kerrr-clunK,

rolls a skateboard by my

bedroom window where my

bed is against the window.

I see a silhouette where

the belly of the open rose

is quietly collecting dew.

Beauty sleeping bloom.

Cast in the far corner

on my white walls, the moon-

light speaks, near the door

-Beckoning-

for more room fortnight.

Photo Unknown (not given) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Extremes

The sun peaks over
still with heavy lids.
On the other side,
the moon is full
of light-ness;
all the while,
Venus winks
at her valiant exposure
in longing along the same
celestial sphere,
wanting the words
to sync in solstice.



Photo credit: me (taken 6/20/16)

A Rabbit in the Hands

Take this

I relinquish my contents

to you

Trust what's inside

these cupped hands

touching Venus

where it is read

the light rapes.

A rabbit in the hand 

is worth more than a litter in a hat.

Image By anilkuzhikala (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.