Paltry pantry

Opinions are like canned goods;
I have found
none mind donating
some of their supply-
sealed potential in
security stackable stock
piled and lined up but inedible
without the proper cutting tool.

My grandfather ran
American Canning Company
across the great pacific railways
back in the good ol' days;

which goes to show
not everything keeps
nor is good to preserve
for all ages.

Do not forget, they suggest

dents and dings
are deadly defects, flaws
in this manufactured
metallic mix,
with an added bias of botulism.

Yum.
When you swallow,
you will know
its poison
by the after taste.

As for opinions,
fresh is always better.





Image By Daniels, Gene, photographer, Photographer (NARA record: 8463941) (U.S. National Archives and Records Administration) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Positively pessimistic

Is it easier to accept all good things
must reach their end
than the bad times
that meet this same demise
because we repel
what its worth,
reject positives,
deflect compliments,
to maintain our polarity
or sense of balance
diametrically positioned
in the middle of the mundane
generally relative
to the negative subjective
circles we spin,
where we begin
pessimism is always possible.



Photo By OSU Special Collections & Archives : 1949  (first day of school),[No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.

Two-hundred proof

In distilled-the man
she loved drank their life away
this was Truth-in part.





Image by Hill & Adamson [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

It is Uni-verse-all

It is not enough

we must make more

it feels slipping through

air-we grasp at wildly

but remain empty handed.

It is up to us

who know

how it all goes away

shown in the sky

by the expansion of our

space-

the distance between us grows

evermore.

It is easy to ignore

something missing

never noticed before

gone.

It is more than

we can handle;

so small

we were never meant to see,

so vast

we could not ever fathom

its depths entirely.

It is when we fall

our eyes catch

the brilliant flame

and make a wish

for more.

Photo credit: By NASA; uploaded by User:Dipankan001. [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. 
Photo details:

English: Resembling looming rain clouds on a stormy day, dark lanes of dust crisscross the giant elliptical galaxy Centaurus A.

Hubble's panchromatic vision, stretching from ultraviolet through near-infrared wavelengths, reveals the vibrant glow of young, blue star clusters and a glimpse into regions normally obscured by the dust.

The warped shape of Centaurus A's disk of gas and dust is evidence for a past collision and merger with another galaxy. The resulting shockwaves cause hydrogen gas clouds to compress, triggering a firestorm of new star formation. These are visible in the red patches in this Hubble close-up.

At a distance of just over 11 million light-years, Centaurus A contains the closest active galactic nucleus to Earth. The center is home for a supermassive black hole that ejects jets of high-speed gas into space, but neither the supermassive black hole nor the jets are visible in this image.

This image was taken in July 2010 with Hubble's Wide Field Camera 3.

Escher the MC

From up here
you can tell where you are
by referencing a point
from the angles and eaves,
the director boomed in-
action, following my line
Alice watches her head
so she misses the low
hang-over and re-echoes
shown here as shadows
shaking in the corners.

It's all the same, anywhere
you begin, there is no easy out.

Canvas the scene, he challenges
placement and position for Pandora
in an artists annex, up in the Atticus
where the finches have nested,
the view is the same slanted
song with its linear lyrics,
stacked and overlapping
shingles, evermans jingles
trading timberline
for roofscapes
envisioned as eternity.

It's all the same anyway
you look at it.




Photo by Danilo Škofič, taken 2/10/1961 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

(The) Professor New

“Art is how we see the world”

she said, and it was

pure poetry precisely
made New

by the way she looked

at exactly what she expected

to see, in awe

of (extra) ordinary beauty

and its blinding

ability to blend

Me to You

Grasping at Ghosts

“Imagination like electricity,”

he responded,

shocked at his own

physic-all-poetic-kinetic-energy.







Image of painting by Theo van Doesburg [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Minute drops

The first train blares its horn
ripping thru the quiet town
at five:eighteen
in lieu of the alarm clock
that ran slow-
it goes to show...

Kicking up dust and sand,
it may take some time
for the eyes to adjust
to light rays
lasering the pupil
shrinks as day
cracks the ceiling
wide open.

It smells distinctly like rain
that none saw coming
since there were no puddles
to prove it.

Tho the tracks
were both still
warm to the touch,
and the mist counts
as precipitation.

It adds up over time,
and passes the miles.
Blurring the light infinitesimal
strewn across space
in broad strokes.
Time keeps losing its place
on the train of thought,
while the whistle blows
such primitive perceptions
as these right
outside the window.

Crystal beads streak
backwards behind the ears
as memories
dew
condense and transport us
while wide awake
but a little late.


Painting by J. M. W. Turner, pre 1844 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.