Aeration

The spiders all scatter when the rock is pulled up,

worms wiggle 
desperate foreigners in terrestrial elms.

Well, it made me think of what they had been doing

before being caught off guard.

It hails this summer,

so they scream and say-All Parades Postponed-

& then the others look at their calendars and cross out

& cry looking up to the sky pointing green stems in vein.

Kites and clouds occupy the canopies,

caught in the whisk of wayward cycles
and lofty expectations, 

it is only pressure applied in decibels of thunder.

White petals all tremble, rose and lilly blush

at the smoky voice chanting in Gregorian tones,

a language lost to Time and wilt,

where these new colors cannot comprehend

so much red earth and black sand-

& then whispers round
like spider legs,

Trailing off, 
earthworms evacuate

I, Aye, eye

mist the warning

but held my breath. 


Image credit By Royal Air Force official photographer, Hensser H (Mr) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Turning over

At 2:24 dark, the mockingbird, and moon

Conspired to wake me,

I rise, finally, compulsive-

By three thirty both have fallen back down

It is only me awake

Again

In this nook, near a shelf in the world.

The cats all sleep deeply at this hour,

The only ripple above is me.

Already, I have sought in the low light

And scoured the flat surfaces for the source

Of the voice-

As though if I knew this

I could sleep through the music

Conducting words my way

Some sink in

Such as

-Begin and Again-

i-am-hear.


Painting by Oscar Florianus Bluemner, 'Moon-Night-Mood' (1929) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Her yin

The woman saves babies.
I have seen her catch one
in midair with one hand
as it was falling out of
a walmart cart.

The woman I have seen
juggles jobs, hats, dishes,
bills and priorities,
shifting her wide hip weight
when necessary.

The woman stands in front
of her own children, taking bullets
and returning aim, she puts her arm out
when they are driving
still
and says it is reflexive.

The woman always worries,
I have seen her furrowed brow
she has origami secrets folded
up in there,
she uses up more than she has with nothing
left
of self

The woman knows her cliches and expectations,
she recites them easily if you ask,
and somehow
day to day words assemble easily for her,
she may manipulate these into weaponry,
unless she sees
some innocence,
she proposes poisons leaving bodies
awake.

Painting by Bronzino (1540) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Sara Nade

Here is that same night bird taking the top of the stage outside the window

Singing light purple notes alone and unashamed of his thin lilting echo

Pitched out and rolling down the quiet village lane over fences

and peeking in windows,

Disturbed 

and proud I would be

if I had feathers to wear tomorrow…

There are no reasons or songs the avian knows

by heart, I listen, still interrupted

under the occasional bassos auto rumbling past, 

the bird usually waits for the concrete to cool

back down

Before the night bird at the window

hops himself back up his perch to scale, 

topping his previous arias and picking at

new notes

The world rises in mourning ovation, 

the inevitable death of knights

or a little light disturbance,

I will get used to it. 



Photo By USFWS Mountain-Prairie [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0) or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Degrees of profession

Develop a certain

-skill set-

as in business, with cool callousness 

as in karate where

the belt be the crown, that designates 

the title or rank, currently

The executive balancing his arches

strapped acrost the tautly

ill-suited rung to sole,

checks his elevation, adjusts the white collar

and gauges

                    his next move.

Now, 

undo what was taught to you

as a rule, reject the ready-mades-

the artist sees these to steal everywhere,

his palms itch and brow drips with want, 

keeping it in,

he delicately destroys his visions,

brushing this distorted imagery away-

missing the point

                               of manipulation.

But by degrees of depth

-perception-

These Two, these too,

Race like Humans

to make names

that mark more than maker, dreg

on the bottom

left

worse off

The blue suits are more, deflecting danger,

The artist, unafraid of crimson, leaves a line

tethered to nerves

that steal

and is broken 

down to blur.



Self portrait By Manuel Pereira da Silva [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Confessions of Stories Never Told (mainly by Rip G. Larsen)

Sealed and steeled and
in tact, in fact, all there-disheveled

in-side the unripe, oxidized lock box, ideas

tamped down in ply, peeling brittle-edged leaves

papers, actually, assorted, fragmentary thoughts-

in-spiration in scraps, morsels and ort,
accumulatively intended

to become something someday a story,
or Open Works-en-Titled:

Idea, Plot, Wet/ Dry, Action Scenes Black forlorn (negro),

Husband and wife, Idea and Story?

Suede pages soft as tanned hides, see the sunlight and crackle

after fifty long dark years crisping in the metal closet,

delicately, I have shuffled through these-

dead mans buried confessions, yarns my grandfather never spun out,

of ideas kept shuffled up, out of mind -out of mindsight 

only to be come, unfortunately,

resurrected by me,
I see a story to be told,

another resurrection fable-
(when they were true and alive)

His lines cast Here:

***************

Go to ‘Blake’ island for mercy killing,

Witnessing of murder changes husbands mind

Convicts solve his personal problem

By killing his wife-

(he lives)

Write one about a revengeful husband who kills his wife’s murderer,

after he is sentenced to life imprisonment.

Taking down of memorial in wintry square.

Idea-Symbols that always work of superstitions that always work-have some from…(illegible)

Idea-In a human vein, tell the story of a very adroit sponge (use G.L.as example)Have this trait finally come to a climax with a human ending

Idea-Write one about rodeo philosophers who have life figured out.-Get one of these guys in trouble philosophizing about (illegible) Show his Reaction.

Idea-Two people in some environment struggling for the same thing-person detests the other for the very same faults that he has. One commits a sin and boldly accuses the other of its execution.

Idea How about using a guy who sees too much significance in each little event that occurs. Have him re-act a humorous chime to his disadvantage.

Idea    Sargasso Sea   to ships as  (illegible)  on Howard St. ---One young face in a sea of living corpses

Husband// Very devoted, sensible, Impetuous, Loves wife deeply, Patient, Noble, Drinks to relieve tension, sentimental, sensitive, sense of humor (over)

Wife// Irrational, Intelligent, Sharp-witted, has softening of the brain

Open scene with her in some unintelligible but significant conversation and action and end play with husband in some way-

Beautiful, superstitious, fearful

Vivid Night Dream                         12^th Night

Wet                                                    Dry

3”                                                        6”

Much ado about Nothing

Action Scenes

Battle with weather by man

Battle of man with man

Battle of man with animals

Battle of man with unknown

Battle of man with = -woman?  (grandmothers handwriting)

Black forlorn (negro)-His eyes and coat were wrinkled from the evening's sleep

Story?

Dumb:____

I know you are well educated but do you have any money?
****************

The wife would be killed repeatedly and in theory,
this philosophy should disturb me, but it goes

unexecuted,
the crazy wife would die following him, naturally.

The gold lock on the green box was put on by Goldy-locks,
Blondie never laughed at these names that nicked at her nerves-

nor at all his taunting confessions
she noted, (red), too late

of murders he could never commit, accepting his miserable
blue collar fate
he quit

killing his darlings,

and turning attention to himself
went blue in the face
from this treading along of
American live-ly-hood-

Well-by now
we have seen, culture kills all kings,
by this time
unable to slay
all (his)storied thoughts, he locks them up for life,
to for get it out and to be handed down
the line.



   

Fingertips gather nerves

I got over it.

I had some extra lift,

(Oofta as grandma would say, Chutzpah grandpa would grumble

in accordion)

Don’t think brazen-

Don’t drink that-

It is enough without elaborating

It is extra superfluous to describe-

So let’s not.
So let’s be

Honest. Necessary. Only. Listen.

More understood, more grounded under foot.

The wings will whisper-“I, lashes”

The blood tingles warm, currently a-live.

Everything here was for you to use,

Everything was waiting

Notice.

Photo By No machine-readable author provided. B & W Kirlian fingertip [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.