Perdue

Yet from far away 

you catch someone's eye

like a tiny ripple you feel, eventually.

It reminds you about touch

and the permeable skin

wrapped around your soul.

Holding it all in.

The breath you do not notice

interrupted by a heart beat

jumping over a stone in your

subconscious-

When another being

locks in 

to where you are

at,

another place or time...

We would k(no)w more 

about us

and trust-

It must be love

at first sight.

Artwork Credit: Painting by Artemisia Gentileschi c. 1625 in Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons. 

English: Artemisia Gentileschi, one of the most important and accomplished seventeenth-century Italian painters, 

was an iconic model of perseverance, resolve, and achievement despite the numerous obstacles she faced as a woman. 

Trained in Rome in the studio of her father, Orazio Gentileschi, a friend and follower of Caravaggio, the indomitable 

Artemisia tenaciously pursued her professional ambitions on her own terms.

Like Caravaggio, Artemisia painted Mary Magdalene many times, creating fresh expressions of the saint’s spirituality 

through deft use of light and shadow and intense physicality. Here, Mary Magdalene closes her eyes, fingering a cascade 

of auburn hair. In the shadows at left, an ointment jar and a small mirror lay flat on a table. These discarded items, 

along with her bracelet and pearl earring, identify her as Saint Mary Magdalene, who has renounced her former 

life of luxury and vanity and closes her eyes to reflect on her sinful past, vowing her devotion to Christ.

Oblivious to her appearance, she enters a spiritual realm. The sensuality of Artemisia’s painting not only conveys 

the story of Mary Magdalene but also exploits the power of art to connect intimately with the viewer. In contrast to 

some of her more violent narratives of forceful, heroic women, such as Judith and Lucretia, Artemisia’s Magdalene 

captures an introspective moment of contrition and reflection, intense in its spiritual power.

This painting was acquired by Fernando Enríquez Afán de Ribera, the third Duke of Alcalá and later 

Viceroy of Naples, when serving as ambassador in Rome (1625–26). Later displayed in his residence in Seville, 

the Penitent Mary Magdalene was widely copied. The original painting, however, disappeared until recently, 

when it was rediscovered in exceptional condition.

soft-ness

It was not evident
at first
how special it was
to Be
good.

I said soft
and meant
landing.

The cats saw
around me
and fixated themselves
under each of my most careful
footfalls,
short of floating
they weave comfortably
vibrating.

The hummingbird
held himself back
from resting
atop my crown,
settling instead
for a golden thread,
with a tip
of nectar.

I reached inside
my treasure box
and felt
enjoyment
in my collection
and it was greater
than my own

goodness gracious
to hold on to softly.



Photo credited by Francisco Enríquez, 2001 [Public domain].

One and done

A singular point pierces the edifice of air,
a stone ruffles the feathered water in strands
where the wind was whispering aloud
and bodies bending above were
leeched into the one minuscule slit.
Pulses race under this repulsive pulling force,
heat escapes by each breath projecting into liquidity
and bulging beams charge forth in banded arrays
fractured from nothing, All
excited by this culmination
we found ourselves somewhere in there
catching glimpses with eyelids
necks lace this track, our spine compresses,
humidity falls, beads babble over boulders in
broken brooks under black light or water and space
pulled from the mountains sleeve
pinches time, a shroud of silken sky
glistens with age, a blink of life, a volume of light,
reaches its diurnal destination,
recycling motes in elliptical orbits.





Photo By Ingolfson (Self-photographed) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Wireless settings

It has been unusual, of late-

compared to panoramic pictures,

sweeping views and one you...

Were you there?

Did you hear the pacing behind?

They did not come today.

The light flickered.

Must be

something wrong with the energy...

It looks all the same golden bar or promise

and warmth and yet

no commerce or conservative estimate
would add up to good conduct.

.

The dust piles

where entropy adds up to

total homogeneity.

Waiting is a dip in tango-ment
without charge, consentual even between two posts.

These quantum jitters move on

branes hold on to frayed ends
discharged from free will.

Photograph By Ministry of Information Photo Division Photographer, March 1945 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Magnetic fields

The air holds warmth in sealed packets

and ships them to living bodies

whom linger idyllically,

overdressed in gaudy allure,

pink jasmine sprays its lusty plumes

overhead the woven flower wreath

making this crown Joyous.

The mustard yellow fields are lit.

Local poppies have all stuck their spindly necks

out tall, above the scruff and common

gullible daisies.

Petals spark fields of amber glow, 

strong in orange and

merely mocking 

the white weak sun.

There was green hope all over the hills

-After All-

Winter wouldn’t stay fixated on grey

forever. Tasted the difference between 

yellow earth and blue sky-together

And It was good, 

And it was all green

left by the sugary dew

drawn to each other

in the new Spring atmosphere. 

Painting by Granville Redmond, Coastal wildflowers (1912), in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Elevation in feet

From those dark mountain valleys etching destiny

like palm lines

We conjure up rain and ropes,

tethering our dreams to vibrant green acres of horizon

radiating our perspectives of

voluminous bubbling energies under

entropic skies

over there.

If only

we had more energy,

if only

more time...

We would make it up

and over and climb higher to see

what is

over the top,

finally.

The other side

is sleep.

Painting by Winslow Homer, In the mountains, 1877, in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A handle on mesmerism

Just so you know, we were right

to suspect any consonant

that needs a vowel to back it up.

Quintessentially; quasi, quickness, quiet,

quarks and quantum theories,

all innocent until proven otherwise.

We were correct when we assumed

gravity would keep it all together,

but neglected to factor its distributive

properties & aggressive enforcement of

simultaneous eminent domain properties,

allegedly, stayed comfortable until ejected.

We were on the right track,

until it went-left-us

dusting prints and collecting categories.

We were seekers and askers

that could spare no time to wait

for the reply. Why, we all ready

knew, light travels by choice, fades,

in the dark effervescent legacy of We

picks its photonic path of preference or

-least resistance.

We were getting somewhere

further, expanding our reach and

grasp at the fading universe

whose tension untangles energy

by itself through kinesthetics.

We were playing with electricity

and shocked to see, we were the end

that shorted potentiality

with our beautiful brevity.

We were wrong all along

about gravity and letter pairs,

the proof was static, hanging, ringing,

crushing

all in the heavy air.

Artists conception By NASA/JPL-Caltech [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. From wiki:

This artist's conception illustrates a Jupiter-like planet alone in the dark of space, floating freely without a parent star. Astronomers recently uncovered evidence for 10 such lone worlds, thought to have been "booted," or ejected, from developing solar systems.

The planet survey, called the Microlensing Observations in Astrophysics (MOA), scanned the central bulge of our Milky Way galaxy from 2006 to 2007. It used a 5.9-foot (1.8-meter) telescope at Mount John University Observatory in New Zealand, and a technique called gravitational microlensing. In this method, a planet-sized body is identified indirectly as it just happens to pass in front of a more distant star, causing the star to brighten. The effect is like a cosmic funhouse mirror, or magnifying lens light from the background star is warped and amplified, becoming brighter.

Pro-Me-The-Us

Smoldering is the only thing I can do for me.
The pungent sulphur of hurt flesh
waits to be sucked in.
The mind wanders as the only means of escape.
Don't bother counting loses like sheep.
All that matters
rebuilds itself in scar and calcium.
Atomically interested in erector sets,
likeness, hinged on proteins
means this attraction
is greater than one.
The smoke signal I sent
lays low, lingers spinning rings faintly
into heat haze.
I have become consumed in the carbon blaze.
Energy spent as a violent commodity, Life.
Yet by now the fire is finally dying
and yet sparks may remain if latent,
nameless and noxious,
potentially smothered by this body.
None will re-ember
the dank smell
of arson
on your soul.
Although
just about
anyone will warm their hands
over hot coals.


Painting by Hubert Maurer, c. 18th century [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.