B Tray

As in

not first

but alternate

a back-up after

A

Designation

of not 

Primary

B sides

after-thought-

empty-blanked

there was no time-

paper-music-words

left

to eat.

Painting credit: Édouard VuillardMadame Prosper Emile Weil at her desk circa 1923. Pastel and distemper on paper mounted on board59.5 x 52.5 cm board; 82.5 x 75.5 x 8 cm frameArt Gallery of New South WalesGift of Margaret Olley 1999.

(w)hole sentences

This practice 
does not make perfection
but a percentage
lingers with something special.

There are notes everywhere
like atoms of crumpled 
origami sound making the shape
of scribble.

Misaligned,
a cacophony
anyone can blow or bang, shout and wail,
I am trying to make some music
but I cannot flesh out
the transition.

I was always fondest of shoes,
Like endings.

I wonder, while I look at all the
scattered pieces, 
amble across the landscape
of my desk like deer pathways
is why I cannot seem to finish...


Artwork by Hans Holbein (1497-1543), 'Studies of the hands of Erasmus of Rotterdam' in [Public domain].

The page of gathering places

Chin jutted level with the horizon line,

arms clasped around thin elbows which palms

cradle against the abdomen, the body becomes

a sensual veil, loosens its threads, the carpet of moss

appreciates the spaces across smooth rocks such as

She-

And I hear her voluptuous sigh

giving weight to attraction,

attention and focus upon

the tiniest moon

as though the stars were an entourage

of criticism-

She begins again, stainless in the mud,

I inquire as to what is bothering her,

what matters more than

rocks and trees-

She beheld a single sheet of white paper

which explained her glow,

scratch that she noted and tore

it into thin strips

but would not say another word edgewise.

I knew I would piece it all back together

when she smiled, opened her shoulders,

spread her wings and sang

like a mocking-bird.

There were too many notes, index cards

and pages coming back, 

returned to sender and un-

deliverable-

Yet we agreed

on something so stark

standing on different patches

of land and future, undoubtedly

paper was better than plastic.

Painting by Poul Friis Nybo (1869-1929), 'Reading Woman' c. 1929 in Public Domain. 

A4 in B-tray

Certainly, not the first female
to have been betrayed
in this way.
And we are told to throw up our
arms
and we are told we should
Celebrate
how far we have come
making progress,
as far as equal rights and
equal wrongs
will come along someday,
even if we pay to play,
it costs us more
than we have to spend
finding a balance between
bankruptcy and wealth.

If we take away
only what
serves us,
we may not crave
revenge for the last
course.




Painting by Johannes Vermeer, 'Lady and maid servant holding a letter', c. 1666-67 in [Public domain].

How the paper crumbles

Tiny tufts of binder paper speckle the ground like bread

crumbs leading to the bulging trash bin.

A blotched tattoo on the outside of the right pinkie,

signal lines filled in and out, a writers stamp.

That far away look is not a place others may go.

Declawed and domesticated, the body observes

and stalks the other.

Taking it all in scraps left over much too much,

nauseated, not needing much more

than nibbles found inside spiral ring cages, 

scratches to self, all

half-fulfilled by my stunted scepter.

Thinking there was more than enough time

to put the ending first, to do the editing in trim tufts,

to say this is my home, this is lace, this belongs

and this is sewn to hold more

meaning, 

to say here is a poem

and poof, it is flown away.


Image By Anonymous [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.