Laven sus manos

Gone viral,
we wanted it to spread
and get (over)shared
causing compulsive comparison
to Others without knowing each Others
weaknesses and whereabouts
for certain-
Nothing was True.

Meanwhile,
Happy Hypochondriacs
sanitize and vocalize
worst-case-scenarios, collecting
those contagious conspiracies
which only produce worries,
conduce anxieties,
and make base greeds
of basic necessities,
like Shelter in Place
of Touch.

Subtle desperation
severs nerves, a cough creates
a panic-an evil eye blinks
and there is scattering
demonstrated
by the invisible nature
Here
hypothesized by Heisenberg;
Evil was everywhere
and No-where in between.

Empty shelves, service interruptions,
bleeding bank accounts, children with
nightmares, 'we are here for you-
remotely' notes abound
like spam and cans stockpiled
pantries
the little things
settled in-

Contagion like credit is Everywhere
and Nowhere
at the same time, in principle
Paranoid Pandemic Preaching
echoed inside idiot boxes inside
dwellings
lined with blockades formerly called
mending walls.

And out of busy-ness
(Safer than apologies)

the world pauses its somatic play
another day, another showing
and it was never the same-
This intermission
This time
on our soiled hands
must have been stolen.

Where?
Where is it?
From where?
Invisible enemies.

No-body will say-
None could say-
for certain-
times-
like these,
I imagine in no time
it occurs
like the poles flipped
the world-over-all the while,
the atmosphere remained
negatively charged
and all seemed the same-
the opposite was true.

None knew what to do
in reality
with all their excess of pluses and minuses
too many took stock
for themselves
renumerating and yet still
remembering to carry the One
higher value
all the way to The End.



Painting by Maximillien Luce (1858-1941) 'Man Washing' c. 1887 in Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons. 

Off the shelf

The panic button was pushed.

A paranoia pandemic 

encircled the globe

like storms on Jupiter,

ominous and ionically charged

propigating and intending

malice and malaise.

Under the thumb of gravity, 

our species 

sees a-head

and worries-

Empty shelves and

idle ATM's

had nothing

to offer 

escape.

The bottom line

supply and demand 

Tottered instead of teetered.

Consumerism consumed

thoughts, dictators dodged

questions and regurgitated 

gossip. Useless garbage in, 

makes for rich compost out.

At least, 

It smells that way. 

Some of the mess we have made

cannot be broken down

in a lifetime.

And what was 

Disposable

was defined as-conveniently

placed within arms reach 

and whose sole purpose

goes down the drain

after use.

We all became less

flushed with the shameful

and frequent

ease of letting go. 

Adaptations aren't always

fine tuning, streamlining or

ameliorative animations.

Out of mind, out of sight, they assumed,

they were the last ones.

There was no TP, 

the people forgot the times

Before

being told-crap-

What to do 

When empty store shelves meant

No more-

control.

I too, fell hard.

Off the shelf, lastly,

I had been teetering at the 

Tip-top too long,

Dust settled

On my broad shoulders

everyone was afraid

to Touch-

Until this one time 

and occasion called for a round, 

ceremonious and rite

whereby church and state agree

the sheeple will never see

a way with out.

There is no more TP

But a surplus of crap.

There is too much TV

and not enough to

entertain

idle hands.

After all,

happily and 

Finally, 

some one, 

like me, be-

comes mysteriously 

Married 

and off the market 

for good-

ness sake,

Mass hysteria

May Be

chronic infections of fear

closer to the heart 

of survival and dependence

as if equal to or greater than

quantity signified security.

Image dated 25 September 1968

Taken in Brazil

Description: Manifestação estudantil contra a Ditadura Militar

Cut, color and clarity

Been programmed to feel,
like all little women,
small, incomplete,
naked without-
a veil,
and in total transparency,
I have no doubt, I will
never wear a white gown
in this life-time
I do
not be-come worthy
un-less, there is more...
                            Diamonds are numerous
                            as faithful friends
                            I have-family-bloodlines
                            circumstance and choice,
                            opportunity and onus
                            promises and pure white
                            lies, thule veiled truth
                            All                           
                            under an abundant umbrella
                            called Love
                            the ceilings will keep you
                            dry.
To be good-enough
for special occasions
with honor and rite,
is to be-have as
fortunate for the gifts
be-stowed upon our vessels
pulled by current and tide
toward each other
we shall always meet
                            Here, untouchable
                            amid this journey underway
                            outside of ourselves
                            we become found
                            reassured and rescued
                            from each other's line of sight.



Painting by Auguste Toulmouche (1829-1880) dated 1866 in Public Domain. 

Flash point

When ideas
hit air
they turn from blue to red,
originating from the short wavelength
inside
to form long low rollers of crimson tide
depositing turbid drops
of inklings.

The idea
tries to crystalize
along the smooth open facet
trying to adhere to open wounds
only to become
solid and reformed.
Ages ago,
raw material was re-collected and
re-presented as pure, a commodity
of our invention.

A single blinding glimmer,
like a square grain of sand
may find itself
a fully rounded pearl
over time and under toes
we find this same potential
scattered across elemental
boundaries.

Carbon in cubes
could become a diamond,
coal, a mote of dust, or Us
bearing the weight
of six million atmospheres
while making light
of such intense pressure
to create beauty
from conception.


Painting by Karel Dujardin (1622-1678) , 'Allegory' c. 1663 in Public Domain. 

Jalopy

When learning how to meditate it is a common tool
to imagine
yourself
being on the side of a busy road, a freeway say,
watching the cars zoom by,
noticing the varying speeds
and taking in
the flow.

The automobiles are commuting thoughts
in this scenario,
unremembered by make, model and color
unless focused upon
in passing.

Being stuck on the shoulder
more than once myself,
some savior often pulls over
to offer help

it is fair to assume I simply ran out of gas,
it seems reasonable to conclude
I do not have reliable transportation,
and it is purely logical to reason
I have somewhere
to Be-

as if I could use a lift.

I try not to use the hazard lights.





Photograph by Alan Levine, 'Roadside Susans' taken 7/17 in Public Domain. 

Lines & Linens

In dark times
our own mortality,
thin as muslin,
brushes an earlobe,
unlike a lover, yet
lightly as a whisper

as this seductress touches
the soft spots,
a veil of adverbs
fall at our feet, deflated
as exhaled balloons,
Thule tends to hold nothing back.

In a single explosive moment
at the end of a whip,
we can only become
deafened and blinded on impact,
and it is inherently
common to cower
and not move
for fear-
For fear opposes bravery
and bravery takes nerve,
and nerves become raw
and thin
as muslin
rubbed back into cotton bolls.

Under this gossamer appearance,
what is soft
has been made to be
rid of
swords and armor
such as grown wild
or naturally part of We.


Painting by Henry Robert Morland (1716-1797), 'Woman doing laundry' in Public domain.

Out of darkness grows

It feels like rain
in the bones.
It is as though
I have known
the subtle differences
of hours
from reading water lines
and by translating the stain
visibly left behind
similar to thunderheads.

Another dawn lightens over me
and after so many
thin and pointed
Winter moons have waned,
it becomes easier to reminisce
in this Time
alone and perishable.

Soon enough,
daybreaks the serene brow
into blended spectrums
dampened down seeds are sown
deeply enfolded into the crust
and the anticipation of flowers
made nothing but sense
of Beauty.



Painting by Jean-Francois Portaels(1818-1895), 'Spring' c. 1879 in Public Domain.