Interiors

“Labyrinth of the Mind” by Kath Mander

 

we arrange life
in warrens of chambers
miniature worlds
we govern at whim
kings and queens
within mirrors who
rule all reflections
refusing the sing-song
of strangers abroad
preferring ad libitum
sounds that our tongues
bounce off surfaces
all facing inward
waiting for each
note to die
in its echo
before giving out
with the next

model freedom
for privately
living the life
that we choose
even one that sustains
no true melody
nonetheless
stretching our
singleton phonemes
to dullest of limits
attaining atonal
longevity
long as we don’t
step outside
where it’s others
who make all the rules
and play music that
surely will kill us

 

 

(originally posted October 2013)

Be Careful

“Delusion of Time” by Mahnaz Baikzadeh

 

the slow heat of whiskey

induces a counterfeit courage

be careful of dreams

made from fortified figments

delusions of power

have ruined more souls

than the devil’s own hand

Delusion

“Hallucination” by Chris Butler

no evidence
no affirmation
just sensory truth

glim perceptions
exposing the
shadow and shape
of a skin-crawling
presence a haunting
unsure of its purpose

a messenger bearing
an unnerving glimpse
of forgettable past
or thinkable future

which is the real and
which the delusion

will fear sigh relief
or rise up anew upon
trembling haunches
to darken the dawn
of days yet to come

a much beset mind
picks its poison
arrayed in green vials
of grim pharmacopeia

fervid psychosis
hallucinates judgments
or figments of imminence

all that is left is
the choosing which
dread apparition
shall thrive as
persistent companion

*******************

(Inspired by the tragic life of Dr William C Minor, as chronicled in the book “The Professor and the Madman” by Simon Winchester)

Circadian Myth

“Abstract Astronomy”
Photo from pixabay.com

 

night is the natural state
day but a temporal fiction
eternity flings itself
deep into darkness
across the black universe
here and there dotted
with pinpricks of light
solar rashes consisting of
miniscule suns needing
abstract rendition by
lens upon lens of great
telescopes merely to take on
the girth of the eye
we are each and all creatures
forever obscured yet misled
by the baseless belief in a
sureness of sunrise that
guarantees man stands out
visible handsome admired

Interiors

“The Inner Workings of the Mind”
Illustration from daisyrlyoung.tumblr.com

we arrange life
in warrens of chambers
miniature worlds
we govern at whim
kings and queens
within mirrors who
rule all reflections
refusing the sing-song
of strangers abroad
preferring ad libitum
sounds that our tongues
bounce off surfaces
all facing inward
waiting for each
note to die
in its echo
before giving out
with the next

model freedom
for privately
living the life
that we choose
even one that sustains
no true melody
nonetheless
stretching our
singleton phonemes
to dullest of limits
attaining atonal
longevity
long as we don’t
step outside
where it’s others
who make all the rules
and play music that
surely will kill us

Discovery

Poesy plus Polemics

(75-word micro-story #3)

“I thought I might donate it to a museum. That’s why I asked you to stop by. I found it on a hike through Smugglers Notch. The striations suggest it may be Abenaki in origin, although I’ve never seen a pre-colonial spearpoint myself, other than photographs.  What do you think? Could it be valuable?”

“Gee, Paul, I don’t…, I mean…, you know, there is no Smugglers Notch in New Hampshire. You’re holding a pencil. Nurse!”

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Sunstroke

Photo from raileesmission2012.blogspot.com

 

 

schools of fish glide right through my sleeves
nibbling my fingertip apricot stones
how long have I been under water
without any arms
a floating medusa
jacket billowed behind dangling
too many rubbery legs
at least more than I used on the battlefield beach
when I crawled through paperback enemy lines
squid shoot past me in spurts of derision
volleys of swords stab the water around me
while I try to determine
how to be dangerous wondering
where are my things that should sting
 

I wake in a rowboat
without any oars
that has gunwales of stainless steel bars
a convulsive cadaver
blistered and parched
baked by oven hot breeze
blinded by fireball lights overhead
how long have I been afloat on strange waters
why am I trussed in sticky gauze strips
like a desiccate mummy rehydrated
basted in unguents and salves
who is speaking from nowhere
my jellyfish name
through the noise
of the flames in my ears

 

Discovery

(75-word micro-story #3)

“I thought I might donate it to a museum. That’s why I asked you to stop by. I found it on a hike through Smugglers Notch. The striations suggest it may be Abenaki in origin, although I’ve never seen a pre-colonial spearpoint myself, other than photographs.  What do you think? Could it be valuable?”

“Gee, Paul, I don’t…, I mean…, you know, there is no Smugglers Notch in New Hampshire. You’re holding a pencil. Nurse!”