Blame

Nobody makes quilts

anymore

from scraps-

gathered, smothered

with pieces of

all the left

overs...

Some people don't eat

left

overs

or sugar, or walking creatures, or 

things that taste fishy-

Some say if

you dish it

you should take it

and some say 

No, thank you,

I'm full.

There seems to always be a way

To say, 

It is not right, it is not my-

fault-

lines lie

over there-

I was listening

Under a cover...

almost like, you know-

umbrellas 

were made to shield

the light

by design.

I don't like 

the shelter.

I get rained on-

Instead

I blame myself

for what cannot be 

unheard, retracted

undone

The word(s)

They

Use

They, them, the other

Way, they say 

Faults 

Sleep, for a time...

Painting by Henry Singleton, 'Ariel on a Bat's back' c. 1819 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Inanimate

Weeping willows

shoulder to shoulder,

mid-century Victorians

lean upon one another.

Wired webs woven atop

Holy wood poles high above

jumbo jets roar toward a stop-

on the runway not far off

in the distance

skyscrapers pierce 

the solid grey sky

Nothing minds my glance.

Nothing moves

unless moved

by something outside 

Itself. 

Image credit: 803 WHITAKER STREET, DETAIL OF PORCH, NORTHEAST CORNER - Savannah Victorian Historic District, Bounded by Gwinnett, East Broad, West Broad Street and Anderson Lane, Savannah, Chatham County, GA, in Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons. 

I see you

Standing outside

Myself

lately, recognizing

point of view

can only be one at a time

I'm in shock, some suggest, surreal, soberly,

listening too much watching

another image 

Of I-not noticing

She is seen. 

Startling

fear of beginnings

bearing endings 

there can be no time

to reflect. 

Painting by Grigory Soroka, 'Reflection in the mirror'c. 1850 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

What Floats

 

Above all

else in the daylight

my favorite sight

or Phenomenon

occurs in the Sky;

Fallstreak holes, lenticular halos atop

tall peaks

and the mighty Mammatus.

I seldom seek

the Why's

As cycles spin

I think I may see them again,

when the Sun's slanted spears

Disrupt

It all-appears 

Darker, more real,

an occurrence

of grounding

without sounding too

Heavy.

Image credited by Alpsdake, in Public Domain (CC0),'Mount Fuji from Mount Ogochi' taken 10/22, 2000 via Wikimedia Commons.

Happily

After all

that Time,

Eighteen years

Ends

Alone 

I can do

what I want

what 

Do I want-when

happiest

Ever-after 

all...

Isn't that

how fairy tales 

End?

Painting by Hermann Koch c. before 1939) in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Sense making

Some-things 
Stirring
But you cannot see It.
Less than wind
must be
that other
Dimension You
Feel but cannot
Touch.

Tension
and tingling, and tummy flips
Come from
There. You can smell
Rain
can't you?
Never-mind,
I think
I have asked before...

Painting by Alexander Helwig Wyant, 'Wind Clouds' c. 1927 via Wikimedia Commons in Public Domain.

Beauty mark

What a triumph it is

To truly love something

About your own 

Body.

Before the crash and

Burn,

I remember turning to him

as we drove by

Our ocean,

and posing to him-

Which one of my moles

Do you like the best?

He was smiling

Anyway and said

I love it too...

And I knew

The end.

Painting by August Macke, 'Couple at the garden table' c. 1914, in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.