the world comes to me
in neat rectangle pieces
reality framed
without legs to walk to me
life floats through grids to my eyes
Archives
All posts for the month September, 2013
Imagine the dartboard
Without any bullseye
Such that each darter
Assigns highest score
To whichever sector
Catches his dart
Here is teleology
Of end-justifies-means
Consequentialism
Passing as morality
In the supple imposture
Of ethics by minds
Unwilling to accept
Any codified judgment
Of utterly right
Or utterly wrong
Which is to say minds
With no ethics at all
perched high where
the conjugal voices
of ghosts ride on
private blown breezes
and silent-borne dialogue
communicates news
of the living and dead
oaken balustrades
fashioned by
fisherman hands
on hiatus between
harpoon harvests
far off in the deeps
where somewhere
his bones
one day sank
to his peace
and she felt it
the moment it happened
a chill shook
the middle of her
as she climbed
straight and stoic
right up to the walk
to confirm what she knew
in her heart
now she smiles
through her tears
at the joy and the grief
of the presence of him
every evening
on high in her own
much beloved
private breeze
the old Jacobin
shook the foundations
eighteen centuries in their accretion
they collapsed under force
of his pounding critique
of accepted pure reason
then he rebuilt them strong
where they still stand erect
on progenitive, perceptive
practical reason
autonomous
in yield of morality
he achieved revolution
some measured Copernican
fixing man’s mind
as the sun-centered point
for ineluctable orbit
of ethical knowledge
he fused metaphysics
with morals in his blunt
categorical imperative
for judging motivation
and gauging the truth
of virtue in action
as champion of civil liberties
he ushered embrace of
constitutional means
to self-ruling republics
by the then-breaking wave
of enlightenment
he still shores schools of ethics,
metaphysics, theology,
logic, epistemology,
even his critics are forced
to describe what’s non-Kantian
about their own precepts
I confess being smitten
with this sociable prodigy
loved by his students
respected by colleagues
his legacy…
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mighty bull moose clash
with ironic violent crash
conjoined forever

Photo from pinterest.com
Grandpa’s Watch
soft old gold patina
warmed by a rough rustic palm
timing medieval birth
of my father
in candlelight colored
by frescoes of Apennine landscapes
he painted while wearing
his bridegrooming shoes
this timepiece spoke life
carried vestpocket snug
from distraught
mezzogiorno antiquity
crossing the ocean of century
ticking its tireless memories
into the hands of my uniformed son
it holds heartbreak and triumph
the bloodline experience
marking we four
generations of men
nestled deep
in its intimate gearworks
where family converges
with history
Splendid medieval hamlets
Cling precarious purchase
On sheer basalt cliffs
Vesuvian vault-thrusted
Towers where Aeolus
Dwelled wielding winds
To massage great Poseidon’s
Deep emerald sea
Splendid medieval hamlets
Raised from classical bones
Of the martial colonial
Romans and Greeks
Upon tiers carved and laid
In Etruscan prehistory
Tyrrhenian vistas
Washed in wonder and woe
Splendid medieval hamlets
Implausibly graceful
Link outcrops of blackrock
Like mutely stoned necklets
Chased with chalky pastels
Terracotta tiled rooftops
Cascade tumbling tandems
Onto throats of warm beach
Splendid medieval hamlets
Cobbled ribbons of road curl
Round lush gardened quarters
Through ruins and villas
Where quaint lives are led
Beneath color-splashed canopies
Iron-pole pitched
To shade azure skies
Splendid medieval hamlets
Harbors bristling with sail-masts
Snug crescentine havens
Yachts of sensuous form
Manned by uniformed crews
Nod patrician in moorage
While the wakes of teak speedboats
Slap quarry-stone quays
Splendid medieval hamlets
Rich aromas drop sweetness
View original post 83 more words
linseed and leather,
dampened red clay, new-mown grass,
rosin and pine tar