Grape and Plum: A Raisin to Prune

Something says
Mature
about a grape
or a plum
per se
symbolically
a tinge of empyrean
or is it in the color?

Have you
perchance
tasted a sour one?

You know you cannot tell
by the purple shell-
when even the peachiest flesh
bites back, bitterly.

Grape and plum wind
up to a higher air, elevated
and astutely erudite.

Ever-enduring and life-sustaining
fruits and stones, vines and arbors
plucked and dried to dehydration
where sugar is preserved
inside the lines.

Out from the water
which now makes our skin
resemble these: raisins or prunes,
making wine or meijiu
with the aide of lemons.

A tangled path,
the wrath of a wife
whose plum mad
one of her perfect speci-
mens-
was cooly
stolen from the fridge.

Maturely,
with sticky June juice
on her chin, she wins-
she smiles at the sweet one
she got,
knowing these
are life lessons
in taste.



Image of painting by Anne Vallayer-Coster, c. 1778 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Me, me, me, me

Is it fair to wonder
when I can be the me
I see,
when I think of who
I want to be-
come from where I stand
now-
it looks far as never
and if I am ever as close
as I am now,
I wonder if I will notice
the fair resemblance
to my former self-
or will I wish
to go on
wondering who
the next me will be?



Image of painting by Léon Perrault, c. 1868 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Fair share

A lone loquat leaf
            curled and crisp,
                       tap dances down
the sidewalk

An empty aluminum can
              dented in the middle
                       throws light and marches making
a din down the driveway

The loitering suburban trees
                        fluff their updos
                         while locks of leaves fall down

Two lips pucker in the sun
                          a short Spring song
                           now nearly done
wilting while the bulb goes out

A blurry old man shuffles a shopping cart
                         gripping his estate
                           for near life.
A trim mom runs in the bike lane
                          chasing rolled dollars
                             barreling down the boulevard
A police officer cruises by
                           in his city issued
                              beemer, observing the peace

A couple makes up
                         in the parking lot
as two seagulls squawk over scraps
                         out and out-mollifying
mean-
while
A raven snags the snack pack
with-
out
argument or a caw on the wind

This is how
gusts, nameless airs,
blow things
out of (pro) portion.

Does that make it more than it is?
If heard
it Is.


Image By Tomwsulcer (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.

Open Corners

-So much stuff we have made more than is necessary for Now

 W(h)ide                 i                                         o            o

  e                           d                                         r             r

                           (p)e(ek)                                  n

  l                                                                       e            s

  e                                                                      r             e

  against time, where matter builds up              s             e

  v                     h                               r                             k

  e                      e                              o                             i

                          nooks & crooks       t                             n

m                                                       e                            g

O                      secure                       c          

r                        t                                t                             s

e                        u                               e                            h

         h              free                           d                             e

t        e              from                                                    se l f

harbored                                                                           t

a       e             p                                                                e

n                      i                                                                r

                        l     

a                 w edged                                                                                i              f

        (re)          stuck in a spot                                          n         o

m                                     h                                                         u

o                     u               u                                                                p            n

t                      p               t                                                lost and

e                                                                                       a

                                                                                        cubic

possibilities.                                                                 qui(e)t

Image By Kuroda Seiki (1866-1924) [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A-maze-meant

There are no eyes
in Truth
But here the ears
in Tears?

The suffix us
is absent in Time
When spoken aloud
the past is drawn out...

Symbols do not say
what they stand for
they are under-stood

we are lost
in awe-some
(of us).




Image By Scanned by Aristeas (Roman Eisele). Artist of woodcut unknown. (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Vastness

Say-vast----grasp sixth sense

infinite measure by word

cosmic calm as ohm

"In the word vast, the vowel a, retains all the virtues of an enlarging vocal agent. Considered vocally, therefore, this word is no longer merely dimensional. Like some soft substance, it receives the balsamic powers of infinite calm. With it, we take infinity into our lungs, and through it, we breathe cosmically, far from human anguish."- Gaston Bachelard by John R. Stilgoe from ‘The Poetics of Space’ 

Image By Menke Dave, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Momentous

There is a fleeting sense
I wish to trap it here-
or is it better to say-
bleed it out
to see it in red
so I can relive
a better way to say
write the past,
in the wrong tense
to feel the heal happen.
If I could make it warm
to softly relay innocence
it would become welcome,
doors could open...
But just then-that is when,
I knew in passing,
there's only so much
words may do.






Image of painting by Attributed to Valentin de Boulogne [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.