Hunger in the sculpture garden

Tempting as it sounds
to taste literature with my tongue
there is a limit to what we can know
about authors intentions
the recipe is always
made to personal taste.
And once again I was lured to lick-
almost taunted
to be truthful-
with its smooth lines
melting in the sun
to tactfully taste the Rodin.
My palm salivating
I took a tiny sip
with just my salted fingertip
and noted the same
famished touch as Auguste,
kneaded under me. So I proceeded
to touch each one,
with my limb and flesh, swallowing the
sculptures and devouring their
stoic expressions.
A feast for the eyes,
an appetizer of art, bodies of work
for my insatiable appetite craving more

elements in my metallic spit.


Photo credit: Me, myself and I, 2/11/16.

Audio astronomy

The signal came from the southern sky

traveling through pelagic open space,

in intergalactic waters,

way out in the extragalactic sea

where wails with corkscrew tails

sing like wet rings, bottle-tops

humming up a cacophony

politely one point three billion

miles away we heard-

a New drop in Newtons bucket

a ripple we just heard, a chirp,

a slurp of bodily attraction

placed in interactive

angular momentum

just one parsec apart

and the moan, a new word

pronounced audioastronomy

a visual dichotomy

once again,

we were not using our sense(s).

Let's pretend we're dumb

and listen to what space may say

about a billion yesterdays

inaudible ways.

Image By X-ray: NASA/CXC/Curtin University/R. Soria et al., Optical: NASA/STScI/ Middlebury College/F. Winkler et al. [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. 

Description in English: An extraordinary outburst produced by a black hole in a nearby galaxy has provided direct evidence for a population of old, volatile stellar black holes. The discovery, made by astronomers using data from NASA's Chandra X-ray Observatory, provides new insight into the nature of a mysterious class of black holes that can produce as much energy in X-rays as a million suns radiate at all wavelengths.

Researchers used Chandra to discover a new ultraluminous X-ray source, or ULX. These objects give off more X-rays than most binary systems, in which a companion star orbits the remains of a collapsed star. These collapsed stars form either a dense core called a neutron star or a black hole. The extra X-ray emission suggests ULXs contain black holes that might be much more massive than the ones found elsewhere in our galaxy.

A paper describing these results will appear in the May 10, 2012, issue of The Astrophysical Journal.

Free the Art (#FreetheArt)

Snowing pear blossoms
in February
Spring sprang early upon the Prado
The statues cowered in the corners
at first
watching the Watchers
take each one in
and walking in concentric circles
an Odessy of light and aluminum
circles that cast infinite full shadow
circles, and so on,
And then on
this eighty-degree day
the air bright boy blue
the art was delivered into the light
of day, pardoned finally.

The Mother and Daughter
thought
long and bronzed
about the Prodigal Son
that stole the show
from morning to noon
and under the slivered moon
they sit silently
listening
to what people say during the day.

Exposed and erected
projecting question marks
directly in the path
where commas once hung down,
inviting introspect to take a seat
and listen to the reflection
of blooming pear snow
finally outside
the museum window.



Photo credit: Me, myself and I. Taken 2/11/16, Mother and Daughter sculpture is by Francisco Zuniga (1912-1998) and is currently on display in San Diego, Balboa Park, San Diego Museum of Art, Art of the Open Air. 

Trending on Depending

The newest Nows were kept near

the generic Common Sense

but considering the recent calamities

every convenience store

is out

of stock on bare necessities,

like toiletries and these two

hot commodities that fly off shelves

frenzied with a surplus

supply, merchant diced in excess

on a roll,

around and around

with leftover Nevers

and riddled with Logos.

Image By Walker Evans, for the Farm Security Administration, taken in Alabama USA July 1936[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The Art of Archery

The goal is the pursuit

The aim is pointed at the → means

As an arrow whose tip says-go forward →

>>>My tail feathers drag you down<<<

                                         If freedom was voice

                                             let it fly with motive,

                                                   words from the quiver,

                                        speech is aimed at your heart

                               shot from the bow of pliable opinion

                                             and if the goal were freedom

                                  there can be no aim, a shot in the dark

                      seeking a warm body, swimming through cold air

               hangs on your breath, steady, waiting for you to be ready

                               to let your grip go, open palms, holding hymns

                  held afloat by a lofty timeline,  gravity holds her weight

                                                                           in parabolic perpetuity

                                                                      ↔ arrows chasing despair ↔

                                                                        releasing boomerangs in air

                                                                                  aimed at freedom

                                                                         hunting down happiness,

                                                             caught by one’s own loud trap

                                                                        the pursuit perishes,

                                                                  passion plummets

                              blue dried blood on the tip

     of your sharp tongue.

Image of Archery competitor at the 1900 Olympic Games via Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain. 

Amore di sé

Atop the purple pale predawn sky
stirred my spirit to unrest
Arose to white worlds winking
afar and apart were we
but heavenly orbs lined up
in a row
Tho all alone at this timid time
watched, I was, enrapt in
warm thirsty waves of want
and shapeless yearning to be-
come drown in the love sent to
me in lights that others call
empty space.


Image by By Alice Boughton, Dawn (1909) (Camera Work, No 26, 1909) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The gist of being Februist

Is it Februist to pen about pain-
Loves counter-refrain
Let's all complain!
That, my dears is the gist
of being purely Februist

And of amethysts
shaped by six packs
clustered quartz
like opinions
and craggy dominions
add it to the list
of being Februist

Golden locks too soft
lead too, hard as nails
too hot, too cold,
too much, too little
love and hate
soul mates
Valentined and kissed
You guessed it, this
is also Februist

So Life is a box
of chocolate filled
surprises and sentiments
to be tasted and tested
swallowed and spit out
notes to nibble on
Though the gifts we tend
to doubt
are the sweetest,
Yes, as the skepticist is
Februist

Only tiny truths, gnats in the know,
bugs in rugs and ermine expectations
make rime in time to thaw
trickle down pains
theoretically and say
in thirty ways from May,
time Marches on
gripes and grouse
when a Februist
storms through your House.

Image By Josephbanjo (Own work (Photo personnelle)) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons Rose with rime.