for fair Andromedae-
chained to a rock
to pose as a sea wall
a sacrifice-
through no fault of her own-
oh Ammon! I pray-
all hope on a hero
who will come?
to turn the Cetus
to statue stone
and be done- with this curse,
so for now the shore does spare
the wrath of hubris worn
let not the child
bear that scorn
oh lord, Poseidon!
“forgive me for what I have done”
IceKu
for even the ice
of a thousand ages old
will melt and then flow
for the world was once united, no, literally, pangea. not that we will ever witness such things, nor can we, unless this is truly a simulation… chew on that for some stimulation, perhaps we will just sail out to the edge of the soundstage and bid farewell to our neighborhood out into a larger one?
existing in circles.
in the lost, of the lost
land-bound with the heart of the sea
or perhaps the freedom from-
the moorings;
a hike amongst those trees- reveals,
a path-
winding along; a shimmering lake
I notice-
distant feet, make the same, echoes ago I hear
and what seems like a pointless loop
pays far more fruitful
than the daily cycle, I commute
Notes: rat race… inferring we are rats, but perhaps, we are far worse, rats have a ceiling, a lack of expectation, a low limbo bar for sure, we, the humans, upright as we are, are capable of far more, but get caught in the grinder, the spinner, the everyday surf of a laundry machine always in motion but going nowhere… myself included, of course, just because I can see the shiny thing does not mean I am the shiny thing, maybe I am just as dumb as a rat, in that case may I be as tenacious…
the efficiency of movement
(essay free form) perhaps this is what makes chess so fascinating… and yet at some super micro level predictable, even if the odds and moves seem unfathomable (to us normal humans), at some point there is a mathematical equation that can handle the whole thing, beyond our human limits to do so, but not our understanding, of such limits, equations… efficiency. what can we learn from such things? perhaps we are more robotic than we may think, or perhaps we can apply such robotic mathematics to what we consider the every day machinations of our machine, the us, we are a field of possibilities, often to the same end, often to the same degree, we, we are such things, we breathe, we walk, we talk, we love, we die, are these not just all outcomes on the multiplication of PI? in some manner, not all, of course numbers do not coarse through your veins – or do they? in some capacity we are an equation, just not one mapped as of yet, and probably not in my life, perhaps, perhaps not, DNA was mapped, that is just the key to the front door, or maybe just a garage opener of sorts, maybe we are just milling about in the yard barely knowing there is an abode there just so far, are we just as smart as a mud flipper who just wandered out of the great pond? yes, yes, we are so advanced to have apps to buy groceries and meet our love match, but, we are still just milling about like ants on our own little patch, do the math.
garden.
god’s garden-
so we’re told
a story, in a book
what if this is true
and more than mere, words
eden was never lost-
but was always here
(in plain sight)
the pending storm…
so, I sit on the precipice of a “historic” storm… I can feel it actually, I feel the anxiety of the masses… or is it me, nah, I love storms. Am I mad? or is this a real thing.. we are amped up now… big storm coming… blizzards do happen, in fact I recall a few as a kid.. bad ones, frozen cars in streets for weeks, tunneling to my neighbors yard under the snow banks that one time, I wish I had an Iphone back then to record the crime, yeah… I do recall that. I do not recall the supermarket panic… I see that now, I also never recall being stuck in my house longer than 2 days solid. I DO recall being stuck in the snow as a toddler… I climbed up this impossible slope, it was probably 5 feet tall… stomped my little feet.. and got stuck! I freaked out, I so remember it… crying out like a bear caught in one of those immense traps but I had much smaller feet… I remember the rescue, my boots slipped off my feet as mom picked me straight up, she was much stronger in those days, so I forget, I have the same feeling as little mind all dressed in layers for winter but now in a bind… but no longer in the same bind, how time passes, impossible to describe… because you have to live through it.
first and last, musing on seagulls
for even the gulls might acknowledge
somewhere inside their glide
across this –
a setting sun.
constant sea
of tides riding along this beach
a singular moment in time
so warm, so close, to what might be perfection-
as assembled ingredients can come
sprinkled in like fairy dust
magical?
if there is such a thing,
than so is this cauldron
the cataclysm of all time collides
right now does-
with such soft embrace
to grace my mind
and still my heart-
for this-
a postcard in motion
a photo that can not be stopped
all in sight, for those who wish to see
as I sit, the universe has written this
for me, to witness.
to be the first
or to be the last
alas,
would I know the past
or the future
to start- or end
this path.
this is where I was when I wrote this… chapter and verse… well, all verse…
top to bottom, in reality
relevance;
there seems to be a race
with no end
just medals of various tint
or a monument
to what end?
the pauper dies
the prince lives in grandeur
the dirt below
knows no such heights
simple. truth.
…(rain)…
close your eyes, take a moment to pause, take a breath, speak the word “rain” in your mind and outloud on your lips, that one word, I bet you are immediately taken to your own experience by that one word spoken, think about how amazing that is, with one word I drew a memory out or at least a picture in your mind, or maybe a movie clip or tik tok clip… that is our primal mind, that is how we are wired, we all are. underneath our daily lives perhaps runs that river that when we hear certain words we feel them… just something to contemplate my friends… as I grow older I ponder things, and we should all take time to ponder things, because … why not?
and even gods…
burnt scarlet ire
as the retreating sun
surfs along the water drawn
when you have taken
down the hard journey’s long road
the end disappoints
for even gods
taste bitter mortality
just measured more by some
by threads of centuries-
in stories
where books become
all we’ve known
of the ascended ones
for even gods or the god is the same fabric of stars we are…
Shades of My Garden 