Assets minus liabilities

It causes a sharp pain
in my chest
to witness
the kitten perched
on the edge of the
couch
watching television-
while the people
are occupied
with other screens

It pangs my stomach
thinking about
the income of
a Poet
who wastes not
a scent or moment
to dwell
upon
the wealth of
interruptions
like pangs
spine shriveling-
the Book won't come
Out
I shout, Inside
voices affirm
the lame excuse-

Not saying

the churning sense
of burning
ears or pants,

Love has been simmering
on the back of the stove
while I wove a couple of loose ends
and made a sweater
without a head-hole,

Thus
confirming my ineptitude
and such
as feeling the need
to Escape
the bleeding clutches
of Loved ones closest
to touch,
the spot
which widens where
no treasure is ever safe
keeping.

The kitten purrs
from this place
smiling
finally
noticing me
watching him
stretch
and grow.


Artwork: By John William Godward, 'Idleness', c. 1900 in [Public domain].

'cat purring' from Wikipedia:
"Although true purring is exclusive to felids and viverrids, other animals such as raccoons produce purr-like vocalization. Animals that produce purr-like sounds include mongoose, bears, badgers, foxes, hyaenas, rabbits, squirrels, guinea pigs, tapirs, ring-tailed lemurs, and gorillas while eating. Animals purr for a variety of reasons including to express happiness, or fear and as a defense mechanism. It has also been shown that cats purr to manage pain and soothe themselves. Purring is a soft buzzing sound, similar to a rolled 'r' with a fundamental frequency of around 25 Hz. This sound occurs with noticeable vibrations on the surface of the body, varies in a rhythmic pattern during breathing and occurs continuously during inhalation and exhalation. The intensity and length of the purr can also vary depending on the level of arousal of the animal."

Blue blood

The heaviest ink
a writer bleeds
are a Mothers Eulogy
and the vows
etched for Matrimony.

These marks,
deeper than tattoo
annotate and commemorate
an expression of Life and Risk
All
Love to Lose.

We may say
nothing aloud
that sounds like what
It is
to trap butterflies
with a lariat.


Artwork credited by W.T. Benda, cover of Life magazine September 1923 in [Public domain].

Beading

The wind breaks
promises

and I storm off
in bitter retreat,

sucking out the sour
isolation...

And the shoreline
waves
recognizing its relationship
with the timeline

inevitable as the tides turn
over

Revealing
what has been there
and who is dancing at the edge
unafraid
of falling in

for a pearl.

It comes in waves;
pain, sleep, sound, this feeling
the crashing is closer

becoming brackish
tumultuous and turbid for a trace
of gold
in every full glass
we see through

The warm breeze
blew away
our differences.

How easily mist
the rising and falling
of all things

may be made
more
than solid or whole,
as in part

of us
is always drowning

and becoming
one and the same.


Painting by Władysław Wankie (1860-1925) 'Fisherwomen on the shore', [Public domain].

Duck, duck, & Goose

I see you ducking & hiding

as if this could keep you safe

of course, most enjoy a good game

of hide & seek-

except when there is no-

body looking

for you

the pain sets in,

nesting in the corners

where you have stashed secrets.

Fleeing from danger

is both fight & flight

instead of planting ones

self in the belief of growth & resilience

where you are

is never where you choose to be

there is disregard

for the hidden

wanting to be found

under a shroud of a woven

textiles you gathered,

that felt like encryption,

yet your secrets strobe across

all of our four heads

illuminating the dark valleys

spreading across your scape. 

Painting by Carel Fabritius, 'Hera hiding during the battle between the gods and the giants' c. 1643 in [Public domain].

Our glasses (hourglasses)

I read in front of them.
I was reading anyway.
They never read.
Even behind my back.

I waited to be sure.
I was never sure
I waited too long.

Liars, thieves, and cheaters
are three of a kind.
I had them all
in hand,
and made a row of bushes
with the tangled vines
for Privacy.

Alone with ourselves
imposes ego as though
we should learn
from mistakes.

The golden rule
is soft, diamonds are forever
handed down
and the rain, perpetually
planting seeds.

The fine print, or return policy
for such a random act
sounds like wind strangled
in narrow channels
but is your paper receipt.

I figured it out
wrong but somehow came to
the correct conclusion
all the same.

There is a kind of
influence, with open palms
that holds no harm
to heat but crystallizes
in salt.

As far as
we can see,
All is in front of us,
there was no plain day
that would be lived this way.



Painting by John Dickson Batten, 'The garden of Adonis' c. 1887 in [Public domain].

And In the Fourth Place

*1st*
Nice guys do not race.
Finishing is not the End
All-Be Told to Run.
*2nd*
It may be You have
Anxiety from lack of
Things to want-not Now.
*3rd*
Enstranglement is
too desirous of a Thing
that breathes not-Life.
*4th*
You got what you want
in the past tense, now what more
does Tension require?




Painting by Louis-Marie Austissier (1772-1830), 'Lady with Basket filled with fruits', c. 1814 in Public Domain. 

Stages of Petrification

 Out of our cradle

endlessly rocking

so soothing to suck and swing,

we be, Wives to the House

we working women

with clean fingernails.

Rural and dirty, illiterate, failed to be-

come organized and erected,

built and projected by chart.

Fortunate: Educate the ‘poor’,

Entitle the ‘rich’ by degrees and adding zeros

we carry on, pound for pound.

In War

Peace. Conflict. Stability. Conflict.

War, Again. The sequel.

Work harder, work longer, work smarter, weave your

World Wide Webs

Catch the drift and save it for later.

Faith

Science

Tradition

Armed men have arrested the development

of reach, nucleic re-armament fires up

and we women make mud pies

with what we have.

Grow food, “make” food, “buy” food

and storage for later.

Trees to homes to paper planes,

Origamic Plastic Pyramids

surmounting slag on landfill,

a slippery slope, a slide-show.

Bare feet babies scramble to fill shoes

made from recycled tires

and the miles

felt without insoles.

It is too late to change courses.

Adapt. Improve. De(con)struct. It was all made

for you

to find a swing of things, how high

may be gotten before

going all the way around

giving blood

blisters from holding our chains

too tight.

Image of photo By Nikater (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Petrified Forest.