This grace

There is no such Disgrace.
I do not live inside or choose to
put my dwelling things
away there.

There is Here to one else,
while I cannot touch it with a tip
of glance-on accident
these matters made solid.

Their way does not cross
my own,
or break through my gait.
Thier way becomes unknown
with wind and soft feet.

There is gasping, a vacuous horror
at the senseless flexing to hold nothing,
constricting itself, There,
the worst that would be too atrophied
to rest here.

I do not dwell in Misery.
I do not consider
my self
part of
Disgrace.


Painting by Pierre-Auguste Renoir, (1870) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Forwarding

So, he almost died.

Almost.

He is still in the hospital

almost dead.

His life will change

if he lives

through it.

He is in a world of hurt.

Give it time.

It is all he has.

(neither of us know him)
Yet we knew why
he almost died.

There is knocking next door.

Without an answer,
it must be the wrong address. 

Image By Tore Sætre (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.

Where silence lies

If you read me close enough

you may still smell traces

of a word meant

to echo in only you.

If you heard the way

it becomes spoken with my own lips,

a taste may not be enough

to say you have tried.

If you ever wondered

where the essence has gone, it is cold;

I only ask you to exhale me enough so

I may hear you near inside thick air.

If the silence were not

as sublime

as the word,

would we have this between us?

Art entitled, 'Woman at the Piano' (1889), oil on wood panel, 26.0 x 13.1 cm) by Tom Roberts (1856–1931).

The painting is in the collection of the Art Gallery of South Australia.

Eliotic

Seeking the objective correlative-
or the equivalency of, thereby
making it happen or
so to speak
visualize one-self there
or affecting the out-come
Ergo-
living the dream and dreaming of a life,
so it would seem
as if things worked out
as we wanted
as planned
as in
perhaps or possibility could be made
as another reality
as if
though not by lazy destiny but by dint
of hard work and I-strain(ing)
See how it should be, exactly
how it is
and felt right, had been in-sight
and was another version of you
seen this time as you travel through
deja vu,
not stopping for photos.

Yes, I recognize this now,
the objective correlative
should peer much deeper
than the sure face
and shows what it true
is also false.

Some aim high
so as not to hit anything
directly,
likewise
some shoot low for contact.

It should show what a meta(s) for
and what it is not
in still
imagery-via the
word made flesh
and tastes like medicine.


Painting by Vincent van Gogh [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Oh's Well that Ends well...

To embody obscurity, obtusity or seem oblong or obwrong
or much worse obnoxious in and about ones oratory-
One may opt out.
It would be wise to steer clear of these
contortionists twists of voweling and howling and calling
it better or good or original or odd.

Obliterate this need for shapes of things and fitting.
Sometimes things do not fit.
There is no angle here.
There is no diagram or relief map out there.
Omens are only ominous if open to opinions.

It is obvious these are obsessive occupations,
making obscenes and calling them oeuvre,
it is a one man show.

Overtly, it is only overwhelming
to gain insight from inside optical illusionment.
Only by this sleight of hand or a twisting of fate,
on point, before it is over, the opportunity presents itself,
there was an odious
outbursting of objects exclusively
offensive to others.
Oh well.



Painting by Angelica Kauffman [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

When in Still(ness)...

They also called it an Empire,

and it was empirical by nature, 

such vast open space.

Larger than life, holier than thou, cliché ridden and

doctrine infested-martyred and named Rome.

But what else could they do

but try to live most-ly

in the little time they lived,

in their little worlds they called homes

making cities, breeding atrocities, too close to comfort

any one or another.

Some chose other-wise;

the exile, the recluse, the slave

those submitting to suicide,

and Then death was revered, a danse macabre.  

Otherwise, it all seems similar-ly

tied to one another by Now and Then.

A full revolution must be given time

to come full circle. Whose to say we could see it move

around so little.

Anyway, it could happen again.

And it could be that we, lately,

have been simply spinning much faster

From the top

All looks still…

There-

The people were all in tumultuous states

of vertigo-

But none said a thing to one another.

Watch they way they talk-

It was all in circles;

Copernicus to Dante, Socrates and the wheel,

and assorted likewise misappropriated

little narratives.

Later on, we read about the fall of Rome,

too easily condemning this ignorance

of inertia, or how our standing under

the weight of air, held us down

to inevitable endings with variable speeds.

It is hard to hear the words Here

with all the rubble in between the teeth

and wind inside the ears,

or see how much time can change so little.

Here we are,hoping the All’s wishing well has an end

in good being, every thing-

although at times

it feels as though we were falling

a little faster

but we could not know

having never felt vertigo.  

Painting by Josephus Laurentius Dyckmans (1845) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Enigmatic Einstein

After theoretically 'successfully' wrapping my head around

some semblance of cohesive understanding of relativity,

the Einstein kind, not just for arguments sake,

the soul relationship between mind over matter,

starts with a succession of power.

Taking all we can from one man, utility wise,

ah, needless to say, does it work?

Coming upon its inertial state, approachable this way,

it was easy to trip over that paradox that must have fallen

right off the shelf, under discovery of the missing item.

Newton would know what we should try.

Perhaps there are too many of these to count

individually. All bits and bites stored within the 

conceptually hard drive.

It was our fault for putting the poison away.

It has become so cluttered in boxes marked Unsolved History

it is now sagging our spacetime beds,

instead, this white head called it the ‘spooky thing’, so we move

away from being scared of what we cannot see.

What ever happened to Alice and Bob and their rocket trip?

Should they care they are always being observed

or the considered the being the observing party, as in-

aide, a party to the equation, without favors.

The measured sentence finds balance, busy, busy, busy

wWe real it all in and call it conservation work.

that was then.

Now we know rain can occur in reverse,

it has been shocking us

ever since

then we found spin has no velocity or zip code.

It is by close relation nomadic and

conceptually centrifugal without further observation

of just the box.

The ghost in the grey long-sleeved sweatshirt

with his ordinary pen which clamps onto the collar

by some sort of hook on the tip, 

the hugs the edge. to make it secure,

or so he thought.

And I better understanding why I dreamt that Einstein,

the apparition, a face of dreams,a symbol himself, 

reached around his neck,

grasping at air, pounding his chest for

what was suddenly not there

and had trouble

finding the words 

to mean what he said.

Some dreams are puzzling-

this is why there should always be a pen
with in relative reach.

Image credit by Ferdinand Schmutzer, Einstein in Vienna (1921) in [Public domain, Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.