“Tuscany Arches”
Painting by Marcia Baldwin
At ebsqart.com
we gave birth to each other
presenting ourselves
to galleries of wisdom
hungrily scooping experience
piled at their feet
our puppy paws tenderly padded
anxious for callouses
needed to journey
the masonry distance
through arches of decades
across ancient tongues
learning unspoken phrases
of voluble silence
Vintage Remington Typewriter
Photo at rosyvintage.com
memory lingers in fingers
embedded with ritual
duties to doctors and deans
inserting two spools
tying ink imbued ribbon
clicking the roller knobs
captured pale onionskins
slipping on interleaved
blue carbon films
mechanical qwerty
deep fingertip plungers
inlaid with bakelite keys
hyphenate at the bell
sweep the pinky-flanged lever
for carriage return
to start the next line
wheeled erasers with brushes
or white fluid masks
atoned any errors
caught by the spellchecker
housed in our eyes
no wonder what makes
for a modern all-nighter
back then took a
full sleepless week
and yet no one needed
more time than four years
to reach their degree
Life Magazine Photo
At 1950sunlimited.tumblr.com
streetcorner Sundays
guys meeting their girls
preaching pinballer poetry
milkshake foam mustaches
winking with rhymes
doubled over themselves
sweet as muscle tees
tucked into cigarette packs
cool hair combing arms
warming poodle skirt waists
bootheels caught nonchalant
on fat chromium revving
through smokerings exhaled
from world war two zippos
while backpocket comics
curl superman capes
brushing unwanted innocence
hard against wishfulness
straddling headwaters
running with hormones
round rocks of confusion
“Singularity”
Image by Wendy Kroy
at deviantart.com
we all lived on a pinpoint
with every least thing
and every last place
along with all time
past, now and to be
every quantum of us once
a part of it all
every speck of far
stardust in kinship
with all of mankind
we now live in a pinhole
one galaxy swirl
in a universe
whirling away from
us infinitely
so if my bits are your bits
we twins of the world
what drives us to hate
and destroy except
naive suicide
“Repentance”
Drawing by Tim Seaward
At ablot.com
ripping reams of apologies
demonstrates nothing
they die upon heartbroken ears
blow away on the stench
deep transgression emits
remorse draws no mercy
unless and until it’s performed
over gradual time through
repeated acts of repentance
despite their repeated rejection
wounded trust can’t be healed
without proof of sincerity
promises must persevere when
you’re lucky enough to have
even a slim second chance
best would be to remember
the motto that hangs in the streets
over doorways to life
if you can’t do the time
then don’t do the crime
otherwise
the hairshirt
is yours
my friend
heads held high and haughty
day lilies flaunting bright orange
mortify greenery
busloads of broomsticks
jostle and clatter
like so many void
disarticulate skulls
generational transports
conveying grim
featureless futures
wood dead on arrival
unquickened by either
Bernoulli or logograms
catered with spoonfed
de rigueur theories
in buckets of sand
flushed out foramina
as quick as they entered
busloads of broomsticks
all newly credentialed
for sweeping up tailings
of better made minds
Photo from erinashleycoaching.com
Photo by Ruth A. Burke
At art-photography-nature.com
shells speak in sensual contours
whisper demure concave yearnings
in delicate patterns of striated sounds
mouths tickled by foam quelling
whimpering pearlescent palates
concupiscence modestly veiled
beneath tawny moans of the surf
“Lymphatic System”
Photo by Sebastian Kaulitzki
At biologyreference.com
words rumble under my ribcage
trapped in thoracic pink spaces
bouncing off organs arranged
between belly and heart
here they’ll probably live till
the coroner’s blade sets them free
but then what would they do in a morgue
unless I can get peristalsis to urge them
through miniscule channels
the riverine lymphatic vessels
up into my arms and then
down through my capillar
fingertips where I would tap them
out onto the keys of my dell
then both you and I
the whole literate world
could all see
just exactly
what they
have been longing
to say
“Apathy”
Painting by Pablo Picasso
At tumblr.com
I once asked a half-god
can happy and sad
occupy the same house
the same room
the same sigh
he guessed it impossible
balked short of certainty
saying aloofly
he’d never been happy
and declined to be sad
that’s when I realized
I’d somehow stepped
straight into hell, it was
pointless to also inquire
about love and hate
Writer Lynne Sargent
Poetry Puttering by Pax & Company
Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte
"drink from the well of your self and begin again" ~charles bukowski
no dust here
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Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
flights of fancy from New Zealand
You're never alone, if you've something to share
All you touch and all you see / is all your life will ever be
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