Notably to nobody but me
Sea oats punch up any
Photograph, black & white, or otherwise.
There’s something about their
Well-lit grace in a breeze,
Against infinity.
.
Those sea oats punctuate oil paintings
With strong lines.
Strong lines might serve as titles,
Strong prose might suit me,
“Graceful in the yielding,
Steadfastly stands the beauty.”

.

.

.for Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber

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“I took a nap and wept for no reason”
~ Jim Harrison  from Songs of Unreason 

 

Should I get older

I recognize me,  more blind,

Crinking my neck back, there, as

I look up at the cliff terrace

And at a windowed hideaway behind,

It’s not so unapproachably high,

Fixed over our Pacific, finally,

That we thought might couldn’t be.

Hard rain, hell, wept down  a wet

That mixes well w/regret, on my shirt

.

2

.

One can look past all our four shoulders

From inside the glass wall,

(We sat back in our Adirondacks)

And maybe just make out

What we’re watching and talking about.

A man closely following his own footsteps

The long stretch of the shore,

But looked up at the both of us,

Hand in hand, and how then the heavens poured.

.

.

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PORTENDING A PORTAL

March 5, 2018

Where the carousel  comes to where…

.

When the maelstrom makes certain turns to…

.

“THIS IS WHERE I CAME IN!”

I’ll quip, & I could wink,  then break up the fourth wall

I’ll step off,  & start off,  I’ve forced   a freefall,

For any form of  free   I will welcome.

If I find my feet  I can become

A pilgrim  on path,

A pilgrim back  filling his path.

 

 

 

 

CAROUSEL

1st artist unknown,

treated by

Fleur Talbot

 

 

 

Landscape W/ Red Roots

February 21, 2018

LANDSCAPE  WITH  RED  ROOTS

.

Mangroves  exposed

I suppose  I’m still  within

Walking  trees?

I bet it’s the breeze exposed stalks

Meant deep in the loamy dirts

I Kick through my feet still walk.

Let go away from the vision’s skirts.

Toddle off,

To Twist over a vista he sees

To a view he can see, One he will see.

.

.

.

chaim soutine

Chaim  Soutine’s–“Landscapes With Red Roofs”

WE’D GO SO

February 14, 2018

 

 

This  one  liaison

We’ll go so  for foreign films

Our unbridled pillow talk there,

On chiseled crystal chaise lounge chairs,

Will be subtitled.

.

We’d meet.

One moon  might

Lighten  one  clutch,

Tonight  once closed curtains

Might   much/open/legged  open  one

We’d mean

To go  so far as to

Show our gods of love  lots of what they’d bet on,

Completedly   W/some things  &

Unneededly  subtitlings.

 

jeannemElevator

..

 

DOLLAR-STORE GLASSES

January 5, 2018

I wear dollar-store glasses
they help me work on perspective.
I live for nothing I can think of.  fact.
It’s suggested I might strive for focus.
In my day bed i might live
with one window & uncertainly my curtain cracked

I can wear one seventy five
On dollar-store glasses
I passed par for an old guy.
I’m far from passed, muy alive.
Tho’ she could present a good argument
Contesting that mad “muy” adjective.
I’d abstain again & again
And I’d hate to publicly substantiate

11-17-2005-07 Read the rest of this entry »

PORTENDING A PORTAL

August 16, 2016

 

 

When the carousel  comes to where…

When the maelstrom makes certain turns to…

“This is where I came in!”

I’ll quip, and wink, and break up the fourth wall

I’ll step off,  & start off,  forcing a freefall,

& any form of  free  I will welcome.

If I find my feet  I can become

A pilgrim  on path,

A pilgrim back  filling his path.

 

TRANSFIXION

June 20, 2016

I  can’t  transfix  my  P.O.V.

 

I  can’t  transfix  enough.

 

I  can  remix  some  sub dubbed  copy.

 

I’ll  crop  the  stills  until  they’re  still enough

 

I got word from my brother,

A suggestion from one lover;

It’s still  finely time to fill in those spaces,

I will take on cyber lawyers, to fill out a cyber will.

 

My cards splayed out on tables,

A gasp goes down  ’round the drawn crowd,

As they turn to peak at my color

Already leaking from my face.

It may be that they maybe wait.

.

.

Something. I turn up  to yearn her coming  colour,

Sumptuously  flushing her chest and her cheek.

I can very hardly wait.

She’ll  start  to  try  to  speak…

And I’ll find and see

All in all, the riches mined & left shining

After finalities,

Are just filthy lucre

Aside memories

 

 

 

 

…but from here;  a boxed baggage bin,

in whatever vessel burning,

Point on  into blank,  frigid  forths.

Andever  vexed  in  yearning.

 

Blind Pilgrims/ Taxed temporal things/

Kinshipbourne/ Trapped/ As my fathers/

Captive on this  course/ We’re  bound to be/

Forlorn/  for treks  on farther.

 

 

 

 

from many years ago, for  Daddy

 rest in peace, b.3/21/29-d.5/29/57