orphans…

orphans…

a thing I do from time to time… just snippets or things I never finished, I always intended to finish, but I am a creature of the moment usually so I do not go back, maybe I will… nah, probably not, so here is some snippets, do with them what you will.. my orphans, take care of them in your head…

Photo by BARBARA RIBEIRO on Pexels.com

(1)
erotic patterns

curves
sultry lines drawn in sand
a back, a palm
by the hands of wind
sliding across the mounds
silently caressing grain by grain

(2)
the psalms of wind
and the homilies of wings

I really like (2)… now, I have to admit it has nothing to do with (1) except me posting them together, and in a weird way it makes sense together… but they were just scraps, but who knows? maybe this is what the universe wanted to impose, and so it is.. because it has happened, am I getting to vague ?

the nature of nature…

the nature of nature…

by luizclas

Birds chatter of Wisdom

birds chatter of wisdom
and sing unto that praise

onto that human ear
which what might capture
the image-a-glimpse caught in the sounds of their clamor,
the leaves bend and sway choruses in that speaking breeze
and drop fruit with what to consume knowledge
to raise up creation for a caravan of local nomads,
the seed holds and germinates within new-form hands
delivered, is enlightened in the new birth, (from that attachment)
the words of speech empower the subtleties of voice
saving from that mire that which doth spurn,
and lay down the foundation in may
build yet a union to be spoken of and carried
out far upon sailed that common wave
out into the world as the prosperous evolution
freedom of expression
freedom of expiration,
and so are we
as the birds chatter of wisdom.

notes… this is a re-work of an old work, something I don’t generally do… but there are no steadfast rules here, so this transformed, in my mind, to something else… this.

my island…

my island…

Photo by Asad Photo Maldives on Pexels.com

may I stay
and sway
forever, in the lands beyond
like a frond
of a perfect palm
hand drawn

stark outline
in the setting sun,
shadow on sand
dancing,
to the gentle song
of the waves
sliding,
into the shore.

notes… if, no when, I go to sleep, for in this life, I wish to be on the shore, water is the force of life, and I want to be at that shore for all time, if I can be, or least that is my dream… I hope this work conveys that sentiment, for it is my sentiment before I become sediment for I will… all my love, all my consciousness will be transferred to that, that golden shore, of my dreams, and so will I be, for the immediate eternity, a dream along the beach, so I hope, so I dream….

all the world is a…

all the world is a…

Photo by Monica Silvestre on Pexels.com

dear, my dear
born again?
must be september
but I can not seem to remember
musket balls to remote controls
I will not swear fealty to cross that moat
nor believe the stories you untold
over brook and crooked back
banish me then
from your impossible lands
where to tell time I had to face
the dire clock’s of dali laced

no, no mad hatter for me then
I’d rather fare the lion’s den
so I might now
exit stage right
(to all a bow
to all a good night)

notes… my notes, have this as “jumble” because… well, if you are privy to me I would say it is obvious… but I always am speaking on many levels… well, ok, often is a better description of assumption, this one has levels to it, I am referencing things in nearly every line, I do that often but not always, see how I can weave a maze of my own post? that’s fun for me, words, thoughts, a playground in which I bound about like a kangaroo hopped up on speed, g’day mate let me kick you in the face like a joey in rage… man I need to cut back the caffeine … or not…

and the presence of time, trees I know are a marker…

and the presence of time, trees I know are a marker…

the trees of lynnwood road
old photos reveal saplings – carefully planted

a family yard laid out in planning
a landscape of new houses for miles eyes,
the generation that planted them
nearly gone,
and mine, surely not many decades to go
but they will remain
the trees of lynnwood road

how time passes differently from man to tree to moon, from the near eternity to the nearer soon

notes… lynwood road is where I grew up, probably not where I will die but a good a place as any… since my father died I have been going through his things, and old photos, seeing the neighborhood in it’s original form and all… houses like homesteads dotting the plots, all equal apart, trees tied down because they were so young, one flood or storm and they would be done, now it all seems so familiar, because, well this is, they know me and I know them…. we don’t talk, we never did, but we understand each other just the same…

quotable…

quotable…

by the time we figure everything out, we’re dead
maybe time is meant for living
so it’s time to forgo the figuring

so perhaps I am guilty as most, or maybe it is the way I am wired… I just over think everything, but how do I overcome my own nature? I guess we are all in that box, that conundrum… but we must, we must break free of our own mental bonds, does it matter in the long run ? probably not, but I would rather go for it if possible, to imagine the impossible for me personally… I’m trying, certainly before I am dying, maybe it will amount to nothing but damn I want to make an attempt at the exploration….

blue skies… and the dreams they engender…

blue skies… and the dreams they engender…

can it be all blue skies?
so dare I dream, and even consider such things, to know better, but wanting to forget that sentiment in the all-together, even if in the temporary transmission of that delusion, there I may seek to dwell, my perfect self, my perfect body, my perfect mind – all aligned, even if for a brief-breath, can whisk me away to dream land, a sunset over easy on the ocean, the temperature just right, the kiss of the sun just warming on cheek, water curling up on toes just cooling on feet perched in soft moist sand, for a minute for a mile, might I stretch into this thought island of mine, a breeze that wraps all around, not a sound but the steady heartbeat of soft fading waves slipping into the shoreline as far as this mind’s eye can see, to this blue sky, a photograph, to live in, to escape to, a postcard never mailed far from my soul, a destination for only me to know, held inside those most inner gates, an escape, from the every day, in plain sight, might I take this flight, to regain the trust, my trust, in the beauty of this world, unfurled, a collection learned from reality, to build brick by brick this fantasy, so may I endure and stay a minute more...

First Light… (a herald)

First Light… (a herald)

“first light

first light
‘ning bug,

tonight
for spring
has truly

gone,
fuzzy
lantern
dangling
hovering
flashing

signaling,
a hazy bulb
with a halo
wavering in
the humidity-
a diffused lens

notes… the air is like a hot towel, more like the hanging days of august than the late hours of june… but this is now, so it is, even night does not bring rest, or a reprieve, the air wants to sit like a moist heavy sleeve, just soaked enough to cling to your skin, just enough to let a breeze be revelation – for a moment’s notice that is…. and then I see them, through the mist of watering my plants, little bells of light, a delight in other times, a child’s mind, bio luminescent beings floating in the ether, either I am dreaming or summer has arrived….
lost.love.letters.

lost.love.letters.

Photo by Sam Kolder on Pexels.com

‘submerge’
at the end of all time
I will be there
standing
waiting
awaiting
our intersection
once more
hand in hand
to walk off

the infinity plank
into that depth, vast
eyes locked
with yours
mi amor
mi amor

note: this is all about form, fast haiku maybe, maybe something else, my own version of verse… but it makes sense to me rhythmically….

Lost.Love.Letters.

Lost.Love.Letters.

this song, this feel… damn, it always takes me back, got an album like that? the first time I was back in Florida after leaving her, I was in the Keys, the beautiful Keys, Islamorada, with my little Ipod mini, remember those, full moon night, my toes, dangling in the transparent azure ocean waves swaying, the only soul at the end of the straight out dock lined left and right with lights like a photo, watching thunderstorms come in like castles of invading nation states, floating battle stations in their own single space, separated and yet almost in wave formations, sparks of lightning- emanating, a show, just for me, just for me to know, she was listening…

notes… this is something I wrote on Facebook in one moment, one time, because it is true… and it really is… I thought I had video of it back in the day… it was surreal, and so transcendent..