Innocent

I should be content 
knowing nobody
could love him
like I do.

True enough
to have witnessed
the changing self
d r a w  o u t l i n e s
of desires
longer than
arms reach.

The center feels like a heart
compressed,
echoes collapse and
the chest pushes a thought
into wearied exile

only one 
caress could suspend
the pursuit 
to trace folds of grey matters
inside out. 

Make dreams
a solace somewhere
whispered images may be
seen tangible in a way, 
a drift made by you
moving through this life
dropping leaves

in a scent,
how I know myself. 



Painting by George Lawrence Bullied (1858-1933), 'The Love Letter' c. 1911 in Public Domain.

Germination

So they go on, doing the deeds,
rolling the ball they tossed
as if it were not obvious
they were following
where their eyes aimed.

Like an animal behind a tree,
they think I don't see,
and I am partly to blame
for this charade,
a willing blindness,
suspension of attention,
inescapably-

there is a stench,
as overturned dirt
insists on being known
thereby making its presence
the heaviest air in the room.

And like the elephant Ganesha,
she leans in, the earth tilts,
her trunk drops
an apple at my feet.

It is my choice
to open mouth
desirous of a tree,
or keep the seeds inside...





Photo credit by safaritravelplus [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.

(in)Tuit

The silent one knowing,
failing how to say
without both saying
and knowing wrong.

Is indignified by others,
esteemed by self-sufficiency
and exhibits a corresponding
lack of regard.

Not you.

It was another time,
and always the same
we made more than may be
handled, physically, intrinsically-

Innate to few, too few,
find efficiency fair enough
or judicious for All
intents and purposes.

Say nothing (more).




Photo (held) By Smithsonian Institution [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Doris Caesar, American Sculptor. Description from Wiki "Doris Caesar sculpted expressionist figures of women, religious figures and flowers. She used distortion and an emotional, loose style in which the unsmoothed thumb marks in the clay remained as a textural element in the finished bronze pieces. Over time, her style developed to be more smooth-surfaced. She was also a prolific writer publishing "Phantom Thoughts" in 1933 and "Certain Paths" in 1935."

The cure

Like most people,

I know more than most people.

Taboo topics, like religion and politics

have no place out of doors,

less is more-saying wise.

Opinions, as I have said before, are canned 

goods, homemade tastes better.

Did you notice the leaders need more followers?

I have no doubt their pantries are stocked. 

Perhaps taste requires focus.

Pickling causes swelling. 

All people only recognize five objects at a time, 

so how would leaders know a lover from a hater

up front?

Or a pickle from a cucumber...

Precisely my point. 

There is no crime in popularity contests,

pretty packaging by poll, you follow?

Me neither. I will walk away

and say nothing about knowing 

anything about anyone

anymore.

Unless I thought my opinion may be expired

until I checked the label noticing a 

dangerous dent

where it says 

Homemade Poetry

concentrate.

Photo By Bruce Bisping, 1953-, Photographer (NARA record: 1888360) (U.S. National Archives and Records Administration) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Half the battle

I know
we know more
than we know we know

I know
knowledge is power
when acknowledging our weaknesses

I know
to not know
is knowing more than nothing

Nobody knows
the potential possible
when getting to know someone

Nobody knows
all there is
to know about anything

Ever

Nobody knows
what you know
I know
you
never
know

I don't know
anybody
like
I know
you.



Image of painting by By John Henry Henshall, Thoughts, 1883[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.