Worry some, or winsome?

I feel no (blood) pressure.

No, I am

not dead (yet).

I wait for the machine to be triple checked,

and checked again

and asked

if I feel okay today?

(like always)

I do.

I feel my tail but don't tell 

and my blood is warm to touch.

Good veins, they notice,

they roll over hearing this,

I feel those too as they go back to blue.

Despite the vitals-

I am (still) not lethargic or pelagic,

worrisome or winsome, anemic, 

or academic.

I am like this-

          land locked atop shiny surfaces

even keel

in calm waters

mirror(s) but blind me.

I look across the reflection

and see deeply through

under the surface, currents collecting 

all trace(s) leaden in me

pumping ferrous Iron  

or capitulate by capillaries.

I remain 

calm under the pressure.

Painting by Vasily Polenov, c. 1886 in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Name extraction

On the tip of my tongue

I close my eyes to differentiate

sensuality and recall

only to get a glimpse

of another thing

I had tried to re-member

by conceptualizing

behind closed eyes

aimed upward toward the starlight,

the expansion of the universe 

is demonstrated before me.

There, dark matter doesn't care

about bonding and periodicals

or a sense of stability.

The first thought dissolves

into the next

continuum of generations.

The name I need jumps out

shattering the dim bliss.

It has been used before,

it is thinner now

in this event

not solid enough to hold more space

for future

consideration.

Painting by Isidre Nonell, Thinking (1906) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Titilating Entitlement

       All we have are letters.
We have made many names with these,

not to confuse utility with title.

When I say

This chosen wisely,

You have started to build-

What is in a Name?

Impressionism in colors.

Blend and bleed by disagreement.

I do not regret leading you on

down the stream, naming and pointing

at amphibious synonyms, 

like crayfish holding their feathered gills.

As only bends and boulders can dictate 

in a white water fury, insurgency in translation,

an explanation of how all minerals find their way

to greater meaning than assembly 

or Magic. Deception has its angle.

Words like water most transparent

when calmly collected. 

Dropping names sink

Ideas float
Titles tell This. 

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

I Pink up the phone and say Yellow

God called me on a rotary dial phone with the piggy tail cord.

That is how we met, unofficially, when I was just five

my grandparents took me to a church

and the man in the middle, his name was Revren was happy

to be the center of our attention, he beamed and bowed

although I remember details like pulling out the tiny threads 

from a cotton lemon dress. 

The bald man, Revren, wearing the dark dress, 

a stage costume, I guessed having been to the theater 

much more, before-

he handed me the receiver of the phone, and shouted 

{He 

wants to talk to YOU!}

Grabbing the phone, 

I held it up to my ear like a shell,

no ocean, hell, just a loud sound called a dial tone.

When I handed it back after Revren asked me what He said,

I simply shrugged and muttered, { I don't think he was there-

anymore.}

Revren bald man shouted to the audience-That

i {did NOT BELIEVE}

{Pray} for little me, but I did see

i saw the light 

through the stained glass panes throwing yellow strokes 

liberally down the aisle

and understood others don't see this

from over there, it may be blue. 

My grandmother who had been a teacher,
slapped my hand
for unraveling her homespun delicate
pinafore
No reason. 

Image credit By Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums, titled 'The camera was great but her new phone wasn't working (1964), [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.

deScribe

   

       

   You write mystery

I heard-     Poetry-     that is

          the same difference.

Painting by Philippe de Champaigne (1602-1674) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Where art thou?

People ask me where I've been and I am mystified.

I mean, I don't know if they mean recently-

or ever-

neither of which is that fascinating-

          which is completely untrue.

Nobody ever asks me this.

I have recently considered how Primo Levi said the glaciers melting 

in green varicose veins 

          could not be described.

He reminds me of Pluto in nebulous ways,

after all, he said it actually tasted like sky.

I guess we have all tried to touch rainbows, 

     and I think most of us prefer shiny things,

not semi-transparent or deflecting items such as prisms

     or  iridescence. 

Honestly, I am still trapped, 

so tell is all I can do. 

It takes determination, geometry 

to hold on to other crystals like granite,

becoming solidified, and structurally sound for a time

bond even, but really just passing through. 

This is how too, 

          rivers are reminiscent of veins 

                         and the passing of blood,

like what is liquid or solid 

               and divides me by you. 

Painting By J.E.H. MacDonald (1873/1932) [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

 

The distance attention spans

Who reads anything

anymore Long-ish, I wish

for the short answer.

Painting By Félix Armand Heullant (1834–1905) (Düsseldorfer Auktionshaus) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.