Come again? (Hi-Q/Haiku)

You know noise is more

(sound disturbance wave signal)

than you need to know?

Photo By Scan by NYPL [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Duel-ality

Make me.

                You’ll see.

Better than

                 what you had not fantasy

or yummy treats for Pavlov’s complacent puppy.

I will sit 

             and stay-for you-master-full.

Why-I want to make you happy-

                                                     all over

ecstatic insanity. Conversely, this is pretty

good for nothing worth trading

souls, 

          never do I say.

To be

          told you I won’t, you don’t,

I can’t help it always

feeling this way, 

                          abraded when edges

won't fit, 

                   the smooth cliff beckons

my plunge.

We were

               not trying to hold on

to each others exposed roots,

loosening further what has eroded

off the bark, 

                    exposed

sap dries the heart-

                              wood.

More about

together, alone.

We could be both those

Some days plays well

                                    w/ others &

always wins 

                     by cheating.

I let him. 

Artwork credit By Internet Archive Book Images [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.

Working up to it

We had hopes

And held on

To air

Imagine this, delicately, with your fingers.

Tell me,

Is your faith strong, rigid, cold?

When we close our eyes, nowadays,

our metronome is muffled with backfire.

It is still

So busy so

We try to think

Optimistic, or up,

But that is not doing

Anything

For lift.

We had work to do, we all knew

Sweat

Yet, we hoped it would all get done.

Painting by Paul Peel [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

(forever) Haiku

particle & wave
Light like Love; impossible
to keep-in one place...


Painting by John William Godward [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Break an egg

Lucky to be alive, I have been.

Though, you know, it is possible

for Heroes to choose wrong.

I've seen

Chance has no memory of why 

me, or some such silly magic potion.

No body's in motion.

Keeping warm, for themselves. 

Believe you me, that which we are

we were here

filling our thanks.

The people making times I was excused...

inconsequentially

conditional

to now. 

How my mother put me on the bow of a small sailboat

in rough seas as a baby,

my father ran over me in their 1969 Camaro,

a drummer man overdosed lying on top of me, 

molested by my stepdad's badmate's husband,

while his two children slept nearby

made a bottle of Advil not enough medicine 

to take the pain away, but made the swelling ego

go down 

the tank.
Man. That was the first of many lasts.

Locked up 'Crazy', thrown out into the foster ghetto,

those taught me math and theoretical calculations.

The great earthquake tried to swallow me whole,

the small town ate me alive, diced me up in tiny pieces,

to spread around liberally until I could do no more harm

tastefully.

To be

T-boned at 90, spun into a tree while driving in a hurricane, 

broken down so many times in BFE, broke and down 

in BFE, driving drunk, or high, or unlicensed, never uninsured

hitchhiking my way around, kidnapped, poisoned, toxic shock,

pneumonias, ruptured appendix, a defunct pancreas,

weary grindstone, the corrupt gall cannot stand fat, or chit chat,

for that matter

black ice, the edges

all horizon thin,

but I keep winning, if that is what this is.

I need not know why

luck is a lady

random, like me. 

Glass making

All over the place

pour, poor women and wine,

overflown lips,

she sees her particulates

in liquid stains

held over old flames.

There is no innocent steam,

the trees that finally fell to timber

under scurrying winds collecting

clay clouds, pulling out roots

by the palmful in a disintegration of states.

She seemed mad.

That insistent sun rose its entitled torch,

humming, ho-hum-mums-the-blue iris to day, to

dew, and do the birds hone a tone in

one place, canary, and crow

cemetery or church, middle C

night and gale mocking us.

She giggles at others tripping over

stone heads

and bumping toes on crosses;

no body ever saw her,

smiling some where upon

she cried upon recognizing herself

as naked truth.

It hurts to linger too long

exposed against acclimation.

We shatter in the cold.

We were always restructuring and stacking

cardboard and compressing pixels

over old times, keeping alive,

ashes and splashes

mixing and folding us back in.

This con-trap-she's in,

clearly cracking

from such extremes

of rising and falling

body temperature.

Such is life.

Photo By SMU Central University Libraries [No restrictions], via Wikimedia Commons.

Time Leapt

I vaguely remember arguing with an accountant
(or mathematician)
about reconciling the Years End with the Leap Second
(or loss carry overs and off-setting capital Gains)
which of course led onto greener pastures,
futures, and master plans
such as the old erratic Julian calendar,
disappearing days, the value of time;
since time is money, paid hourly,
benefits and salaries
traded for living richly-

But, I bet his figures are better than
all my Reckons added up, The ante:
don't gamble if you do not count
on losing.

We've agreed to disagree
semantically about 'Balance'
and whose 'books' are better,
whose red-what-
Whether time matters more
for some
time we've known is not a matter
of physically covering ones assets,
or stock splits-

And yet, this hiccup, jump,
an algorithmic appliance,
rounding off and ballpark-
GAP
brought us back around to black holes
(and stellar bureaucracy)
being the center of each universe,
resistance, gravity, monogamy, and
uneven solutions such as slices of pi
or other dark matters where time is converted
instantaneously beyond what we can conceive
in a mind, in a hand, in a life
time-any-thing-more
slips through the cracks,
between fingertips, spills out, tells
all to watch, wait, rely, count on,
change, coinage, patronage and no matter what-
we were never Here too long to be wrong.

Still, I will
deny any transpositional errors or leaping
to conclusions. Definitively:
broken down seconds were
never more
than
firsts.

All accounts have been settled.
The time is Now.


Painting by Nicolas-André Monsiau (c. 1800) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.