“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Friday, November 11, 2016
Impression: Make or Take
There is what we see
externally
And what we think of what we see
-internally.
Indivisible, one
Being
shaped by exterior circumstance
molded into our interior meaning
Livelihood
Will we survive, we Will.
Pursue. Ensue.
For a time, from this view,
from here you see-
Not the same as I do.
cogito ergo sum
Visualize wisely then,
this becomes more vivid
clearly
one Beings
eternal reality
fixated to fill in focus.
Painting By Anna Palm de Rosa (1859-12-25/1924-05-02) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
(in)Tuit
The silent one knowing,
failing how to say
without both saying
and knowing wrong.
Is indignified by others,
esteemed by self-sufficiency
and exhibits a corresponding
lack of regard.
Not you.
It was another time,
and always the same
we made more than may be
handled, physically, intrinsically-
Innate to few, too few,
find efficiency fair enough
or judicious for All
intents and purposes.
Say nothing (more).
Photo (held) By Smithsonian Institution [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Doris Caesar, American Sculptor. Description from Wiki "Doris Caesar sculpted expressionist figures of women, religious figures and flowers. She used distortion and an emotional, loose style in which the unsmoothed thumb marks in the clay remained as a textural element in the finished bronze pieces. Over time, her style developed to be more smooth-surfaced. She was also a prolific writer publishing "Phantom Thoughts" in 1933 and "Certain Paths" in 1935."
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
Dude, where's my car?
The usual parking spot
taken again!
It shouldn't bother me-
since these arrangements are all
temporary.
A reminder of routine,
a barb to burst the bubble
feathers to rustle and I was flustered
as I looked around to make sure I had
everything
worth stealing,
holding nothing of value but the health
to walk,
I locked the sad car
a block down the street
by the Montessori school-closed on Sunday.
I tried to shrug it off when looking behind me
I see history-
blinding me-
replayed out-a memory
in bursts of heliographic signaling.
The old apartment with an ex,
the sun glinting on the front window
of the dark living room, the two
fields below, the
dark stairwell in the middle,
the figures fighting blurry...
I know I am seeing too far
too vividly.
So I walked the other way,
don't look back
again, I tell myself.
Turning the
corner
home
I wish I could forget such trivial things
such as where I am parked
or how I have lived elsewhere
too close to home.
Photo By Härmägeddon (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Sere
Sere
see here,
it was hot.
Hotter than sin,
at November daybreak
and the swept sky revealed
traces, as wind,
Saint Ana blew through,
while the inferno loitered along
the way gathering a static, cult-ish
hung as tense air, sacrificing
the people clung to silence.
And as the details,
our stars bartered
over-night
over our dead bodies,
see here
some slept all the while
some wept themselves barren
and some became swept up by isms,
enrapt in labels, and role playing,
naming and claiming knowing,
the game goes on.
Rock.
Paper.
Scissors.
Sere and silent,
dumbfounded,
surrounding the crackling air-
This is where we
do not care
about whom you cannot touch
person-ally.
Such as the trim horizon
off in the distance,
taut sharply to keep apart
certain matters, reactions
into lumps of coal, carbon-copied
canaries as luminaries
See
we sing while we may
hear, cause for flight.
Somewhere over there
the water danced with a veil of flames,
the ice smoked with dramatic intention,
the clouds caused accidents low and high,
the land split open its molten chasm, hungry
to matter more.
See here
the red in the sky
is just a reflection...
Starting over.
This is how
Saints from below
wave their victory flames to Autumn.
Anew, we feed Prometheus who fumes immortality
burning his precious people
in the name of Pandora, igniting
fauna and flora to flee
anywhere less sere,
less here
threadbare and awestruck
like lightening.
Painting by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Tuesday, November 8, 2016
Cosmicomics mesostics
he with the papers blaCk and white
way space was when the galaxies were fOrmed and
Space was then through the point Space
undeniable in the glow whereas events coMe
flowIng down without
Cement
being pOured
coluMn next to the other
withIn
the other seperated by blaCk
and incogruouS headlines
☼
unconscIous is
The
oceAn
of the unsayabLe
Of what
land of language removed as a result of anCient prohibitions
he wAs carried away by that mania
of the storytelLer
who neVer
knows whIch stories are more beautiful the
oNes thay really
happened and the evOcation of which recalls a whole flow of past
☼
the pages of the space was wen galaxIes were being formed
space was Then with
corpuscles by emptiness contAining no
destination or meaning and how beautifuL
then thrOugh that to
draw lines parabolas pick out the preCise point the intersection
spAce and
time where the event wouLd spring
undeniable the prominenence of whereas now eVents
come wIthout
like cemeNt being
pOured column next to other one within other
☼
seCond
industrial revOlution
unlike the firSt does not present us
with such crushing iMages as
rollIng mills and molten steel but with bits
in a flow of information traveling along Circuits
in the form Of
electronic iMpulses the
Iron
maChines
Still exist but they obey the order of bits.
♦
The stanzas above were created using the Mesostic Poem Generator and quotes by Italo Calvino who adamatly denied being a any sort of a poet. For formatting alignment this poem is best read on full screen.
Image by Frank R. Paul, A jagged beam of flame (1932) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Naturally Resourceful
Foggy today.
Not outside.
Expecting nothing
of this Sunday
that cannot be named,
securely crated and/
or mass produced.
Must everything be ahead of schedule
in such a small time?
At least our brains are stocked up front
for processing and Random Access
Memory.
Memory.
There are no explanations for this,
but go on...
Name what you need.
Struggling to say,
assembly by poetry is perhaps
assembly by poetry is perhaps
helpful to visualize intangibles i.e.
physics and such phenomenona
as aspirations...try.
It could be, most simply,
about physicality-
that my nose is out there,
too far to see transparently
or cross-wise.
or cross-wise.
I do feel exposed, but that is not it
either.
either.
The dull light doesn't care about mood
or money. Funny how we do...
A penny for my thoughts.
O yes, it was reconciliation.
Counting the change
in the air.
Painting by Friedrich Preller the Younger [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
(unnamed)
It is magic
and you cannot stop me
from saving myself
from a worn out hex
bestowed onto to me.
It is energy (also chi)
and used methodically
to end this mean curse
in-heir-antly placed
I may live
by breaking.
It is healing,
helping myself,
or magic.
It is not about you.
It makes
me better.
It is the art
of magic.
Artwork credit By Internet Archive Book Images, Ladies Home Journal 1948 [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.
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