Confession

There was nothing left 

for me to do except take him to the edge 

of land

and see if he notices

what is missing

would he read the horizon lines

and turn the page?

Together we watched the boats

come and go

at the mouth

of the harbor

saying nothing 

of directions

like wind and gaze.

The further we went on 

drifting by degrees away,

where the edge becomes and end 

before us

anyway, a moment of stillness

Arose 

to this occasion

of reading-

The End.

Painting by Winslow Homer (1836-1910), 'Chindren on the beach' c. 1873 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

bird braned

small minded man
only capable of moving
one limb at a time
one a single plane

some said Stanley
explored out of his
comfort zone

and yet he is known
by other names
irrelevantly so.

The circle is wider than the sun
or, as the crow flies
across the radii
it would be a straight shot
between sight and
understanding
potential

the small-minded man aflit
fills his hands with too many
occupations,
he is past the limit
of how far eyes may be
set apart for depth perception.

After observing the same flight path,
year after year,
the soar-
ness sets in
and feathers fall off
my sides.

Painting by Paul Peel, 'Bringing home the flock' c. 1881, in the Public Domain.

Blind i

Losing one's eyesight is the prelude to
insanity,
indirectly.
The words lie there, lined and
blocked,
and the Brain knows what to do,
but can no longer sharpen
the peripheral
imagery with ease.
Poor lighting perhaps
not more than denial
that it was all a blur.

My grandfather had Alzheimer's,
I used to think it was called 'Old Timers'.
My grandmother got glaucoma,
we don't know when it started,
nevertheless
we never saw each other's point of view.
Makes me wonder which is worse...
I think up and makeup
for fading memories, visions,
and finally, recall, I remember
what I came here to say-I now see
Time erases All



Image credit By Internet Archive Book Images [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.

Nightvision

Silver sliver slit of moon

acts archaic atop adorned academies, antiquity

of old ordained, ornate, obstinate, and now obtuse

proclivities, profusely posing purporting professorship,

impelled into impervious impatient improprieties.

Notions by night, nearly now, it's too near novice to notice.

We will wait while the world wakes wearily,

today, teach the truth, telling tales, trusting stories to-

gether, gathering, groaning, gaining girth and gravity as we go

up right, up-tight, up early, up-side-down, unnoticed, in parity, and undulate.

Caught, covered by coal clouds carpeting the charisma

blue-black-blinking-bringing-back

wisps of white words which purple pink

disappear during daylight,

alone little line left

hanging on the hazy horizon, humidity hovers heavily

upon us.

Image By Long, William J. (William Joseph), 1867-1952 [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.

Clouded

“It is better to have your head in the clouds, and know where you are... than to breathe the clearer atmosphere below them, and think that you are in paradise.” 

–Henry David Thoreau