Aerodynamics outside Elsewhere

It had happened before
certainly,
not All
at the same time.

This time
a first
Spring
vital statistics
lost interests,
attentions drifted away
from their gliding paths.

The sky dictated
directions and we employed
Free will.
At all costs
we are trying
Time
sheltering in square spaces
and speculating about the sudden
impending darkness, the doom
and the emptiness filling corners
while hands draw curtains
and blinds squint like eye-lids
in thin masks
wanting only
Elsewhere.

For once,
the calls all came down
from above. Over-
ruled our old ways.

The birds sang out
consonants, whole
notes hailing hard
lyrics none had heard
before but had been said
meaning suddenly something
anything, anymore,
save a Poets smooth
translation of such dead languages
avian, barbarian utterances
fallen on deaf ears
so many years
we stood under oblivious
and missing
the calls.

There was no place else to go,
to look, to escape, to buy, to barter, to sell,
to tell, to exaggerate, to hide, to collect,
to get, to juggle, to balance, to plan, to invest,
to pad our feet
by adding more Pyrite in the veins
connecting our heart to our soles.

Blood is always on the move.

We look down
and out-side-gazes
away from each other
avoidant, accursed
shielded and sheltered
under the same temperamental
Spring sky
whereby
a feathered friend cocks
his head and chooses
a listener to teach
one good birdsong.



Image description: Birds in flight, St. George Island, Alaska, USFWS, dated 12/04 in Public Domain. 

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.