Grass blades and power tools

Stood up,
freed our hands
to tool, implement and imply
utility.

Thus, sentenced within predicates
held under knuckled thought,
contortionist
fingers fist in refusal to feel,
with open palms, red
and pointed tactile tips,
being blue,
leads us through rooms, people,
towns, and nightmares,
fumbling for switches

to turn in from out, left from right,
divide man from beast, past from present,
and fulfill this suspicion to see
the last site from its first sound-

With time on our hands
seconds passed.
While waiting,
we outpaced ourselves,
only to find the finish line
lying down.

The race was over
before the dog slithered under
any fence, and the walls caved in.

Too late

to place

bets.




Artwork by Walter Crane, 1909 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. an illustration for the poem The World's Age' by Charles Kingsley and the lines 'Still the race of Hero-spirits/ Pass the lamp from hand to hand;/ Age from age the Words inherits-/ 'Wife, and Child, and Fatherland.

Building the Doozer Adobe Dome

Ground has been broken.
It is coming along with callused hands,
bloody knuckles, slimy elbows
and the shoulders
of Atlas.
                                                                Making progress?
Making is a process,
even when done
this way before-
there is a rhythm
in the rhyme.
                                                                To each his own to find.
The ones near the top
are fools gold
bodies that steal the sun.
                                                                You'll need to dig deeper.
When it all caves in
you can hear a faint echo
where labor lost love.
And as you go down,
ear to the earth, grumbles;
but from above, glistening.
Erecting glass towers,
prisms with poise,
                                                                one stone away
                                                                from crystallography.
Yes, we may get buried
                                                                over.
Yet, we must continue
on schedule,
with slotted setbacks
                                                                spaced out.
Rock.              Water.                Bone.
Not to worry,
it all comes out right
when done.
Once all fine points                                 (grains)
                                                                              are settled,
resistance quelled,
the dirt goes back
right
where it flows
best,
                                                                 in order
to rest in peace,
on this sight                                              we will make
it
on
Time.





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