Scapeland

Limited by a point
in view
doesn't mean there are no
obvious clues sticking out.
We have a nose
for things
that reek
and ears to hear
when something rings true.

The horizon made crisp
by Januarys cold shoulder
brittle colors crack
under depth perception
all is in arcs
electrically
carried through thick-
space, this line is drawn
between the backdrop mountains
painted over the sky-aglow
colors like no others
demonstrating distance
with tonality.
-hummmmm-

Light blurred into white
sights set on time-lapse
of the tidal motion
we may be slow to know
the ripple can re-ripple
reacting unpredictable
but then, this happens
when we don't wave back.




Image By Rowan, Dick, Photographer (NARA record: 2406259) (U.S. National Archives and Records Administration) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Fragmentary figures

crystal eyes

Dis guys

thin and Lethe

soak and sponge

pour us

poor us

more

moor

aqua vita

vita nuova

amor fati

mere our

mirror

image 

Imagine

Imagine

image

mirror

mere our

amor fati

vita nuova

moor

more

poor us

pour us

soak and sponge

thin and Lethe

Dis guys

crystal eyes.

Image of painting by Paul Klee [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, Crystal Gradation, 1921.

Writing a Rebus

Poetry is where
we put words near each other
Pretty-true or not.











Image by Périclès Pantazis, 1884 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A Sea of Soles (Haiku)

Learn to (not) look, (not)

see the mirror refracting

the shape of our soul. 

Image of painting by Paulus Moreelse, c. 1632 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The Son in a murmuration

Enunciate so I may extricate exact meaning,
To take shape, elucidate and translate
When you mumble, I fumble for accurate definition
What is the intention of your failure to mention directly
what you intend to convey, or say
about the beats of the bush.
Please pronounce each phonetic
instead of mumbling so humble when
a mutter means so much more
than a stutter,
but is still much softer than a stammer.
Write bigger so I can see you better.
I cannot stand on the shaky wavering scrawls
that angle consonants at a lilt
and hangs on a high note, I cannot reach
the top hat beat, picking up your
rote rhythm, a murmur,
a murmur
doesn't go so well
a murmuring swell
a murmur-oh hell,
a murmur in his heavy heart
explains the interrupted pace
saving face, not wasting words
a murmuring beats to another drum
thumping and pumping your wings,
I hear you, loud and clear.




Image by Walter Baxter of starling murmuration taken 11/11[CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.

Spin

According to the variables,
the rules were elongated.
Black time flowed fast
on an interrupted smooth plane.
There were too many similar pieces
in play and the moved spaces
never progressed wayward
along the spherical borderline
overlapping soul and self,
Venn inside, categorically
trapped, unable to trace the way
to break the line that labels, rates
and places apart flat out
otherness, the other coin side
limited by a the double dimension
of peopled perception, angle of the arc
along the rim of the never ending
line that flows back into itself.
It's your turn to spin.

Practice: ars oblivionalis (art of forgetfulness)

Don't forget
fingers wag
feature flicks
with you
in them
Don't forget
they ask
my name
return it wrong
as though
I forgot
all along
Don't forget
the warning
lost memories
are golden
Don't forget 
about my
filtered words
trickle down
your neck
Don't forget
why
you're here
you chose
to remind
and return
the thought
I lost
but didn't
Re-remember
my name
the same.



Image of painting By Arkhip Kuindzhi (1842-1910), Moonlight Thinking (http://gallerix.ru/album/Quingy) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.