Time heals

Heavy loads lighten

With deposits and discards

Along the way

The body seems to know

What to do

when cut, shattered, broken

Takes care

of itself, well

Wounds heal, eventually

Even the inside ones

May mend

If treated

Kindly, Rest,

Until ready

to move 

On each step carries

One-One

step further away

From the point

Of impact.

In tact 

You must keep 

walking from Then.

Lighter with Less.

Changed for Good.

Humbled with Life.

Graced by...

Painting by Carl Holsøe, c. 1881-1936 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

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.

Target practice

One of the most helpful things I have learned
(about myself) is my tendency to
Jump the Gun-

But I can't stand the thought of standing still
while others take aim
and bullets fly.



Image By Ronald N. Keam (awm.gov.au) Austrailian Women's Army Service, Queensland c. 1942 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Net wait

A blessing comes with a curse,

wait and good things will appear,

like whale spouts and comet tails bursting forth,

you will see-eventually.

And chances are 

choices awaiting a verb,

like the other side of the coin

what is tossed in the air,

must plummet to its lowest nadir.

We have seen this played out. Likewise,

such sweeping statements, proverbs and prophecies,

do little for everything-in-all-times, 

yet consistently, this movement tends to

strew the smallest fragments more widely 

distributed across the floor and

atop all the lowest planes, building up-

just as the feather duster spreads its wings,

the timepiece propels one to practice 

gathering oneself more

and in doing so, magnetism must assert 

its basic properties are acuter 

than our elemental bodies

behaving and obeying the laws.

Well, we can only collect our thoughts 

and arrange them in an orderly fashion 

so that they may be 

overlooked,

making more room to move around and since 

wisdom was a woman, things, like elimination, 

we tend to find 

liberating in corners.

Everything here, in a sense shows, 

entropy was a mirror image of 

this empty room, piling up with dunes of dust.

While waiting for change,

chaos was creating 

lines in the sand and

when the wind broke in for one last sweep,

there was nothing to weigh any of us down.

The holes served their purpose. 

Image By A Stieglitz, c. 1899 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Maxim Poetical

Grandma said
                Always wear a bra
                -even to bed.
She said,
                Put liberal
                amounts of lotion on
                everywhere every day.

Grandpa advised
                looking up every-
                thing I did not know
how to use or say
Smile
Grandma warned,
               those are the better lines
               to make.

My heavy skin agrees
                with these
                ad(d)ages.



(This poem was inspired by Lorine Niedeckers' poem, '(A) Poet's Work')


Painting By Mohov Mihail (1819-1903) (Mohov Mihail) [Public domain, Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Add ages

Don't let them tell you

You had just one job,

they always expected more.

They say, Just be yourself,

as though given a choice.

Stand up for yourself.

Don't believe enough is ever enough,

it is only enough.

The first bird and the last owl

awake

are equal aviators

afflicted with (chronic) fomo-curious-itosis.

Silver bullets and linings should help save us

before things change anymore.

We have nothing better to do

than keep busy, make haste and donate

to causes

we make no effect on reason

such as why the wherewithall has

deteriorated and became dilapidated into

three-wheeling metallic adages.

Don't ask. Don't listen. Don’t look Back.

Don't do them.

Reason is revived with hind-

sight. You will see later.

The Truth

will set you free

to follow your heart,

to do what you love,

to be mindful,

to forgive and forget

Thyself

and rest in peace

lying down.

Take it.

Your Time

is up.

Painting by Édouard Manet [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A bird in the bushes

That sudden moment you realize

in full color,

Everything has changed

dramatically-

As though the view had become slightly altered

-say some trees missing over there-

the skyline is as good a place to start

against which the details are sharp-est

most vivid.

This was the moment

that would be marked

the point of divergence,

a terrain change

ahead.

All is

unforgiving in this light.

I said up and above, bellowing

over heals past keeping pace and you race

to keep flying

toward this shiny chromatic destiny as if it were all the same-

to you,

estranged.

This very moment remains

coveted yet-

unchanged by the bumps and bruises,

fallen limbs and

sin,

regardless

of it always being just

this way.

Image of artwork By Internet Archive Book Images [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.

Cool as a coloquillialism

Art is no job
do what you love
and the rest will lead you astray
To Art is human
Thou Art That
I think
therefore

I project
and put out there
the Golden Rule
and a silver bullet ricochets
silence is gilt

words will never hurt
but sorry makes the hurt
go away, they say

don't look back
at the distance that enchants
your view

where dreams come true
when dreams do become
better than you imagined

save for your future, spend wisely
save your wisdom for a rainy day
spend your future, it expires today
experience is the mother of wisdom
wisdom is the child of possibility

Don't be penny wise and pound foolish
count your chickens at the table
a pound of pennies
are thoughts all the same

and endings must come,
good or bad are just
consolations
for you and me
soon to be
ancient art-
i-facts.




Painting by Giovanni Boldini [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A morsel of musing

If I were to pinpoint
precisely where and when
it happened
I knew
to follow the line
back to the pole
when I happened upon
a spork in the road.
White on black,
the day as clearly as clouds be,
and plastic albeit,
yet it stopped me, dimeless,
there on my deceased steps,
breath on the line...
In a round-about way, you could say
I was stuck in the smooth palm,
it's well
being surrounded by sharp
tines
to be
deployed in case
the next course
require more-
I am sure, that was the sign
that read
Be ready,
either way.




Image By Jeffqyzt (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, Three Sporks.