backward forward - poem for 8/31

 

backward forward

my ziggurat ing self is walk ing

backward to the hemp arts school  

my hand back up befronts my face

reflecting a watch mirror’s face

image to see where I am going

or is it to see where I went?

Evening Window - today's poem

Evening Window

Up from the ground

as an orchestra hums La Mer

a spice aroma scent, up and up is sent

lanterns ascend, their glow lost

in stars

like glowing wheels over a blue sea

A long marsh with forest beyond

circled by night sky

is foot-lighted but growing dim

to distant hills shadows resolving

in darkness, losing their form

Sleep is descending, casting its veil

the breeze upon the night scene

sheer as silken mist

waving

this one here - today's poem

this one here

feels trapped -

searches beyond each horizon with

EYES of swimming suit blue

contrasts a green business suit to

HAIR of bullet-casing bronze

to seek royal typewriter blue with

NAILS of striped bandana red and white

 

but if consciousness is a spiral

but if audacity is a plus-plus

but if work-life takes a stitch

 

seeming to be lost

EYES un-focus a cumulus MIND  

as Booby traps capture silence

HANDS shield soundless EARS

as Booby hatches enclose innocence

MOUTH a void open-oval landscape

as Booby nests fill with hatchlings

and above, birds riot in insect-spinning air

 

then all is naught all is fraught

then the freight is staged

then lost are found, found lost

 

 

 

Boat - today's poem

Boat

 

Let the boat drift into a quiet cove

Behold a bush of stars radiantly shining

 

agape as a talking deer nears

telling woodland secrets

 

Julius Caesar in robes and laurel wreath

wanders Druidic woods slightly obscured

 

the Emperor, his time interrupted

seems to say, this is all your fault

 

just as a cork bobs on an undulating lake

drifts slowly away from its silent cove

 

untying water and sky from time and land

On not being oneself - today's poem

On not being oneself

 

Oneself who wasn’t one

but instead was a tree

likely was someone else

to begin with, not a self

but more of a woodland elf

and not a munchkin cowboy

 

By living in the plant world

one such one lacks insight

outright dismissed and is so

to the point where it hurts

and no one sees the truth

punching and roping cattle

 

One who also wasn’t oneself

or who was more apt to be a bloom

was unlikely to be someone else

yet lacking outright insight

but perfectly home on the range

couldn’t point to where it hurt

 

you are here - today's poem

 

you are here  

thinks a horseless headless horseman

loudly. sitting in a windowseat

as a sunshine pig sniffs the screen

farm after farm beyond breeze sees

green fields wifed in ocean waves

in a frame of beige room shadow

as I sip tepid timesqueaks of coffee

the end - today's poem

the end

snail darter

versus human

corporation

by what measure

who decided

who has, what

are, rights?