Image by 4×6
scaffold and hoist
wash the faces of commerce
but stains remain set
where the pigeons took roost
and investors were filleted
(originally published November 2013)
Window
All posts tagged Window
Photo From pinterest.com
striped moon
sliced my dreams
stole them slyly
in silvery slivers
through gaps
of my shutters
he gloats having
made a fine
meal of my mind
thief in transit
self-fancied lord
light of the night
when it’s me
I’m convinced
it’s all me
all my lost lovely
visions that shine
white and bright
from his larcenous
leering at gullible
lovers enrapt
by the throw
of his illicit glow
unaware
their own dreams
could be next
(originally posted January 2014)
“Rain on My Window” by Arinda Foxglove
why do some raindrops
race down the windowglass
hurrying straight
to their death
on the sill
while others crawl crookedly
changing direction
from hesitant pauses
unsure of themselves
and their fate
why do some raindrops
travel their journey
alone and untouched
by love or by hate
while others collide
in mutual acts
of pointless destruction
or nudge and embrace
in brief conjugal blending
of fluids with partners
becoming the fuller and better
how do some raindrops
apply their free will
do they follow some signal
from colors that swim
in their domed iridescence
or is it the window
through which they can see
and then mimic
or more wisely learn from
the choices I made
on my own slide down my side
of life’s pane of glass
“Window Looking at Wayne”
Painting by Aaron Morgan
From aaronmorganart.com
the world comes to me
in neat rectangle pieces
reality framed
without legs to walk to me
life floats through grids to my eyes
“Old Window”
Photo by Remigiusz Szczerbak
From freakingnews.com
what to make of a window
by what means of magic
do glaziers make matter transparent
admitting of only invisible light
permitting resultant perception of sight
unless it plays mirror
with angles and cants
and reflects us in half-image
back on ourselves
or distorting the light in
a concentrate glare
it blinds us from all sense of truth
it hangs dense in its brittle solidity
firmly dividing of inside from out
how to possibly tell then
on which is the side where we stand
here is us – there is them
good or bad – right or wrong
if we pick up a rock and just shatter it
giving free access for mutual passage
will there be collision
or merely a blending
that wipes out distinctions
and brings on the end of the world
Poesy plus Polemics 