A place holder,
beginning with an idea
called Someone.
A word
dear
changes to another
fondness
becomes
a title, a role, given
to the someone, the anyone
shared-
until the job, the role, the position
changes.
And you have become someone,
the only one
you never knew-
until now,
meeting yourself
more than halfway
to being, have become, a place-
holder of names
you will never
go by.
Painting by Mary Cassatt (1844-1926), 'Young mother sewing', in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
This morning
behind charred clouds
the moon sank
as if weighted by
its alabaster center
yet holding
light,
becoming full
bodied between
plumes of thick night.
Time brings on vertigo.
The past smells of soot,
the smoke dissipates
as soon as it appears
now
the ashes of what was once
solid
touch smears what has
dis-appeared.
Imagining the days to come
are dreams,
the haze and glow of a child
in wonder,
hoping for a pony
afraid of the horse
it will be-come.
Now, like water the falls
in sprinkles
touching my cheeks,
the temperature adjusts
to the soul, a heart
that is cold can hold
now,
clinging to ice
that melts into the ever
present stream
of being
here.
Painting by Wilhelm Ferdinand Xylander, c. 1884 in Skagens Museum, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
All Things fracture where
fragile pressure placed
care-fully
just so
we know
Better
held in a place
of mending.
Painting by Harry Willson Watrous, 'The broken vase' c. 1900 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
To understand
and more -feeling
what life is
within
by prying off
the transparent face
what is sacred or
true
we can hold
hands
while causing them
to cease
counting
measuring deeper-
still
the gears moving
as does the heartbeat
outside the chest
pushed on
by the next,
by the last
place
held
until loose
screws
tell no time
has passed,
the past
is going to come
On the dead man's wrist
the watch stops
telling
a second time.
Image taken October 22 2016 Description; Exhibit in the Karl Gebhardt Horological Collection (Uhrenmuseum Karl Gebhardt), Gewerbemuseum - Nuremberg, Germany. As a utilitarian object, this exhibit is NOT subject to copyright laws. Instead it is subject to Industrial Design Rights; see Industrial Design Right for more information. If this object was ever covered by a design patent, that patent has expired, and thus this image is in the public domain.
In America
aka Land of the Free (Will)
aka Incarceration Nation
3 women are murdered every day
by their Spouse aka Partner
or significant Other.
Is it significant enough to know
that it takes 7 attempts
before a woman actually leaves
an abusive man?
When attempting
to spot a Psychopath,
it is estimated
that 1 in 20 people that cross our path
are just that.
Spots are not the same as Stripes,
prison uniform or hives.
A zebra is black, not white
despite seeming either or-
Predators need prey.
I prayed to escape,
to be Free
and became a prisoner
of debt.
He gave and gave me
his imaginary numbers
his future faking real self-
sabotage.
The total
loss is incalculable
in Time
rounded up to zero
accountability,
divided by One, alone
is still nothing,
which is something
I figured out
the word problems
were rhetorical,
literal, not figurative.
I live with the remainders
eating decimal points...
crunching
numbers
are man-made
the bottom line, I made it equal
to Life.
Image credit Unlisted author(s) c. 120-1929, captioned 'Third (3rd) year students at a girls' school during the 1920's, that was located in the Tonkinese capital city of Hanoi, Nguyễn Dynasty, French Indo-China.' in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Degrees like minutes
momentarily we see
gathering thin air.
Painting by John Constable, 'Study of a cloud sky', c. 1825, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
There is the normal shock
that consumes the soul
upon arriving in a new reality
bare, with no traces
of a former life-line-perforated-
into breath and blink
inside out.
You can open your eyes,
your mouth,
as the four walls
close in-for walls
box, cell or plaster
made to contain
or hold-
back-then
This is It,
all that is needed to
eat, sleep, repeat
every day, what were seasons and
shades no longer define a time, a space
like black and white, day to night,
all began bleeding
grey. The light only hurts
open wounds, such as eyes and mouth.
This much
Less, is more
deserved
when sentenced
for Life
without color, without a soul, without a window,
with a reflection of nothing that was, is
held inside
with only the wait
for Freedom
that releases
the fear from inside out
but chooses to stay.
Artwork credit: 'Acta Apostolorum (Acts of the Apostles)', Plate numbered 27, The Conversion of the Warder; to left, St Paul and Silas kneel in their prison cell; the prison warder descends the steps leading to the open doors of the cell, his sword drawn; behind him two other armed men follow, bearing torches; to far right, figures congregate on a flight of stairs. 1582 by the British Museum, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...
