Shadow lands

Consulting the calendar

to measure the finite edges of days,

proper rectangular weeks,

Lifetimes.

Using a ruler, I measure

the distance between

solar cycles inside

circles spin squared up,

and churn stuck in corners 

and lurk in boxes,

Leaving us to use the same angles

Over

And over,

Holidays make tangents, or triangles,

Between meaning and moment

This second

Memory, like haze that fills with light

remember the fog backlit in sun, rolling

over it,

The wind, the wave, the change,

The ends,

whites and blues

begin blending new for someone

We one knew upon a time. 

Image By OSU Special Collections & Archives : Commons (When trees and shadows make art) [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.

Pivot point: 11/1919

          

            ∞

Eclipsing theories it occurred Earthly,

by a twinkling of doubt-

might light penetrate that too?

Witnessed few-by degrees

scales of truth, by fractions-

a test, a hypothesis to rest

a wish we may, a wish we might

see if Einstein was right that daynight.

             ∞

Bending starlight towards the artists eyes

the heavy lenses have been adjusted.

Ephemeral epiphanies, yes these

have energy, fields that carry

to open spaces, finds minds,

where dark-grey-is shady mass

is recognized in its likeness, eye to eye

in poetry. Compression.

              ∞

Encompasses only Here

the ever widening, infinitely expanding

dynamic astrological points

of view, growing still

under the weak weight

of the world by volume,

softened by moving the arc light

finding its center.

Image credit By NASA on The Commons (Apollo 12 view of Solar Eclipse) [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons. 

Doomsday of Dionysus

If it were dreamt
by a brilliant mind
it would be, come
divine prophecy.
And genius was one
prophecy away from lunacy,
we would certainly
believe
in the phantasy.

Time,
we would learn
to stretch a point
into a limber line,
into an affinity
of likeness in light.

The expiration
and expectation
of the End, of our race
of the chase, over-
taken by night
led a long, long the way
by our own
four shadows.

We would cry,
caulk our eyes
and think again
of never
the same tomorrow,
while waking
through the day
four saking 
the dream, imagining control
over (coming) what may (come)
too tired of trying
to rise again.

Unwound
in the pendulums pause
exhausted
all ready
the urge to be done
with desire
hung over our heads.
It never dawned 

Up 

on us
We will
Be come
intoxicated
incinerated
in opta-mystic yellow
when the sun doesn't show.

The divine mind is “…the brilliant darkness of a hidden silence.”-Dionysus

Image from Splendor Solis c. 1582 (Germany), [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.