Showing posts with label friction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friction. Show all posts

Friday, August 4, 2017

Ear-ly Eve-ning


At the end of the day, 
when the crickets find me
most attentive to their feast of roses and drunken
nectar songs,

The darkness that settles in the pit I carry,
this stone heart needs no theorist
to confirm this is where the swallowed

Information has been broken into dark energy
as a compression of all things
in one day

Though they needed my light to see
and absorbed all thermal emissions,
fueled by love and friction
seared in and cauterized, the hole

Space for consolation with these over-
flowing words, no sense of black contains
All meaning

At the end of another day,
crickets had their final say.




Painting by Henry Golden Dearth [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Finger prints


Fingers fly across the keys as wings would
cut through cloud space,
wishing everyone was watching
this dialectical mastery in the dicing
of an apple pip up, cubed,
without drawing a drop
of blood.

Beads swell and dangle daunting disconnection
of liquid self, wrung inside out.
Friction finds itself most magnetic
just under the tips
tapped dry.
The raised ink stains the held note.





Painting by Giovanni Battista Naldini (c. 1563-65) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

And then...

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