Silent Sunday Services

The clock on the wall hammers away
in the quiet house before sunrise, oblivious to Sunday morning
rituals.

Nary a breath escapes while the beat skips on along-
long whole, holy, sunny sun days-
while others pray I lay behind dreaming doors,
light pouring in, purring snores,
while that clock ticks off
and takes, takes, takes
its sweet time,
this time I think-the time-
Time-it takes too long to make every single
second
count
may be wrong.

***********************
The kitchen sink taps a tune
into a rose colored glass
muffling its measure
by the minute
becoming
optimistic by the hour.

Between that quiet space
of steady shine and rise
coming up on-
it is too easy to lose the pace
or miss the place
where to chime in...
.........................................
The fridge hums steady and warm,
the oven clean and cool
both standing white in the background.




Painting By Catherine Wiley (Tennessee Portrait Project) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Being Selves-ish

Ego is not the enemy,

it simply needs some control,

like willpower, which

is not a weak force,

like addiction or love.

Nor are neither the culprits

caught in circumstance, tagged It

in the blame game,

standing in the way of wind,

struck ill, accursed, vexed and falling plagued

to indecision, which is not

Doing anything

for them-selves

like self-immersion or suffocation

in one’s self-doubt, like insecurity,

self-consciousness,

like paranoia and conspiracy

under-lying self-sacrifice…

We are not safe with our selves.

Image of painting by James Sant [Public domain], Courage, Anxiety Despair (c. 1850) via Wikimedia Commons.

Water worlds for (Haiku)

terraqueous bliss
bonded biochemical
witness change in THIS



Painting by Ernst Josephson [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

A cool breeze hits a sweaty brow

Too busy to look up
tethered with tension
down my leaden limbs
tiny things gathered
and amassed
yet-so easily dissipated, blown away

Here, first, things first-
someone's last chance
blows by
why
ask
any-
more
?


Painting by Jean-François Millet [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Loch Smith

Before sunrise on this particular morning
I came to see-
quite unmistakably-
right in front of me
a gaping fallstreak hole
hanging wide open, saying high.

The cat and I,
our curiosity got the best of us
and I suppose
I teetered too close to the edges
which tend to be
slippery slopes of padded History-
also called Epiphanies-
and well,
I fell in or out of sorts,
tumbling through a tunnel
my vision blurred briefly-
white.
We can see-

the mountains lining the dappled plain,
the plane piercing the wall of clouds
intermittent keyholes
blink like red EXIT signs in bright blue blips
appearing further away than they seem-

And although it may all appear
as this lucid dream at dawn
-since the hole has long closed-
I was simply unable to resist peeking out,
fell up, skipped in and
if you've wondered where I have been
before the first light.


Photo By Kittelschürze (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

Simple sunset sought

This is not life-it is living
hot for a time
wet for a while
until salt only remains...

the ocean swallows us
wholeheartedly we wait at
her ledge at sundown
remixing our urge to merge

in gold lights flecks flicker
a flame bathed in warmth
dazzling its prisms by hint
of change for photophores


Photo credit: By United States Navy [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Sea pansy

As though it were a secret
not sacred-Life-as we know-
the hen and the egg,
brood and crew who hold,
the container or contained, which is
the moving mover, and divine bringer
trinity minus unity in duality
is our singularity, or DNA say
phosphorus or essence
expressed in bioluminescence
appears as blue because it is
alive on the surface,
It is obvious hope floats
after the sun has sunk in.




 Painting by By Franz Arthur Bischoff (American Eagle Fine Arts, Benicia, California) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.