Directions

Creation is the opposite of

Destruction.

I wave my hand

in a certain direction

and create

Havoc or Hope

it makes

sense further away...

As far as I could see,

All that can be

Destroyed

was never meant to remain

the same

Goes

for Us

Undoing

what is Done. 

Painting by Edvard Munch (1863-1944), 'Woman in White Sitting on a Bench' c. 1906-1907, in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

What Floats

 

Above all

else in the daylight

my favorite sight

or Phenomenon

occurs in the Sky;

Fallstreak holes, lenticular halos atop

tall peaks

and the mighty Mammatus.

I seldom seek

the Why's

As cycles spin

I think I may see them again,

when the Sun's slanted spears

Disrupt

It all-appears 

Darker, more real,

an occurrence

of grounding

without sounding too

Heavy.

Image credited by Alpsdake, in Public Domain (CC0),'Mount Fuji from Mount Ogochi' taken 10/22, 2000 via Wikimedia Commons.

Grief is the thing without feathers

Keep going

an hour longer than you think you can...

Strength 

is not how heavy the load

or capacity 

to measure up

against the weary

whose Joy

dwells in Nothing-

of want

Everything back,

as though undo was a direction

from undone.

When Lost;

the Way, the Hope, the Time,

the trust

the will, the want, the why-

The sun rises its warm cheek 

lighting the low flame

of a fresh poppy 

bursting through the winter mud.

Anyway the next step,

the next moment

finds me

empty and lighter and

unable to grasp ahold

of any-thing-any-body-any-way

right or left

or stay 

strong long enough

to make sense

of Beauty. 

Painting by Auguste Allongé (1833-1898), 'A Walk in the Forest' c. 1873 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Wait lifter

Where I have sometimes
pled with pronounced pain,
head nestled in a pillow,

I find myself
Now
heaving
and overcome-
weeping with joy
at the alignment,

at how far
these things travel
and come back around.

And I levitate
the world-

at least it feels this way

in the middle.



Image of art installation Title: Levitated Mass by artist Michael Heizer at Los Angeles County Museum of Art in California [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

a lone path way

some thing stirs
out there
with out us
with in
we name hope
hanging on
be came
pulling up
our gaze
only then
some thing
in finite
may be
seen.


Photo credited by Carol M. Highsmith, Santa Catalina Island, 2012 in [Public domain].

The light from stars

The sun had yet to rise
Still; inevitably it occurs
to us
it will never be the same
when we embrace this day
that tries to run away
from us

Not to notice

A sky
contains hope
levitating
as atmosphere,
permeable to light and
always open
to being caught
unaware
but ready

like the eyes
that see from here. 


Painting by Paul Klee, ;Horizon, Zenith and Atmosphere' c. 1925 in Public Domain [CC0].

Wishsome

A little bird said:
Change your energy
    (in the situation)

She repeated Hope
in different ways
    indifferent to the tears.

Hold on-Al Anon,

you don't have to do
anything Now.

But it Happens
to be
anyway, the note
I only hear Hope.

Painting by Abraham Busschop, c. 1708 in [Public domain].

In our places

In winter it is warmest
in the pale sun
and under your light,
even behind the dark glasses

your eyes smile bright
while we talk softly,
without effort
the breeziness knows

understanding the sky
without words
needing to hold us up
against our own presence.

Placed here, like so,
sharing tastes and sounds,
noting the harmony
we share by proximity

and savoring alike. I know
you know, it takes two
to not let go
with one glance,

promise me
one day-
seasons will allow
a change-

when we lift our eyes
holding out hope
over all others
like this

there was no need to explain
how a line catches
all it can tether
together in one sky.



Painting by Johan Christian Dahl, 'Winter at the Sognefjord, February 1827 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Traffic

Strangely, and somehow ever still
we all agreed, we all believed
despite the odds for and against
a higher power
the harder the fall
be it for truth or justice, karma, saintliness, etc.

I guess something else made itself known
privately, intimately, miraculously, coincidentally
called Acts of God, meaning no explanation,
meaning no known cause or capacity or possibility
of escape from these well-kept secrets
about proof and feeling, outcomes and solutions,
and there was us
stuck in the unknown. Needing nurture.
Navigating through Despair,
getting lost in Hope.
We keep trying to solve for seasons or reasons
for the unpredictable Nature
mirroring our mirage-

And just perchance,
the devotion toward loving God(s),
holy spirits and the angelic, is an obsession,
with Death-the passion-ate rose, heart, compass,
pulled by this magnetic feeling.

Better to stop and smell the air about you,
make some sacrificial vows, He Loves Me (Not)
He loves me Now, in lieu of later.
We (will) Be Good, and ask ourselves
What Would (a) god do?
or a man
in our case?
We (will) wait.




Painting by Hermann Ottomar Herzog [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Catch

We may toss around

Love and Homicide

too casually.

Mutual attraction is limited, finite,

if a connection is made momentarily

And result in Love or Manslaughter

it seems too lofty in-

Designation or in-

Decision

To place fat Hope woven
round, a chalice.

There is fault or fissure

between psycho

And Matter of Time.

Those that do make it a-

cross feel justified as 'survivors'.

Meaning making, throw or drop intentions,

Themselves, proclaiming they be gods

With clay and Pray, hands take shape

as in For-giveness For-self-

ishness.

Since the air is thin and light

relatively pliable

around laws of nature, it was all natural

to let off steam, in order to play games

Sharpening
our serrated skill sets,
with the wrong weapons.
It was no duel, not one against the other,
rather competition can be
humbling,
when the ball is dropped.


Painting By Тиціан (бл. 1480-1485—1576) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Working up to it

We had hopes

And held on

To air

Imagine this, delicately, with your fingers.

Tell me,

Is your faith strong, rigid, cold?

When we close our eyes, nowadays,

our metronome is muffled with backfire.

It is still

So busy so

We try to think

Optimistic, or up,

But that is not doing

Anything

For lift.

We had work to do, we all knew

Sweat

Yet, we hoped it would all get done.

Painting by Paul Peel [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The Joy of Aging

Bubbles should be saved

for old age

after we have learned about 

Physics and seen many 

circles in life

when we have learned 

what Hope tends to do

when it hits matter

It would be something

to look up to.

Image By Brocken Inaglory (Own work Transferred from en.wikipedia) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Dandy Lions

A piece of a wish floated into my vision

settling down like my cat in my lap

spinning first before committing

I looked carefully

from all sides of the wish

careful not to crush its prospect

but failed to find any form

of return address.

Since the sender should know

its want was taken by a whim

and carried off course-

of course I could keep it

since it already hangs nicely

balanced by just this part

that says Over You.

Image by Laurits Andersen Ring c. 1899[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.