Gesture

It is the same way we see heat
emanation, only by the rippling
of reality,
an oasis awaits further down the road.

Despite the distance we cover,
no matter how we adjust our focus
crisp lines singe into smoke
relaxing
feeling and senses
a source.

Desire is emanated
from the soul to the eye
that traces the shapeliness of
bodies around
a naked blur
which softly invites a gaze.

The way wind is welcome
where still
waiting for change
of pace moves no bodies
weighted with apathy.

The world spins, arrows fly,
hope floats, love kills, babies die,
the decrepit are reborn, the gates are locked,
gravity suspends its permanence
for a second
witness.

See how it feels...

Arid and parched
a body becomes
never reaching
for what cannot be held.



Image taken in Death Valley taken August 1982 by Roger 469 in Public Domain. 

Speed wobbles

Racing past

one gets the landscape

by an Impression-ist wrist

At the window, the color box spilt

noting the puffs on the palette

pushing by, running in streams

the mouth waters, dipping brushes, the tongue wiggles

if I could reach out, put my hand in

this water colored river, grasping

gasping for shape, I'd find only

orange

I’m afraid

to hold, still life

that poses as natural

representations of still-yet this is also

dead and buried plaster in acrylic

and the fiber bleeds, canvas cracks

like us, as personal whims

which color where

wafting pass a blended note

complimentary, nice to the eye

you catch mid-air, a mood, a tone

holding it there, while it is thrust forward

continuously, ever

taking souvenirs

wherever you go, grabbing

blades in the wind

at the expanse,

taking it all together

in-

distinct

as rain on glass

racing past.

Image by Georges Seurat, 1882 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.