Time kept seasons conclude. Summer springs
A brightening then its sulfurous noontides wins,
Wash away tardily like a repenting Midas.
He says, ‘Here’s a gift, out of my touch idol,
A late summer bloom like switching off polite,
Fluorescent lights to see stars―light giving way to light;
Like holding oceans weightless and without
Drowning in the small…
Protuberant human body lifted vertically in length
By a pulse and graceful aggression for breath,
Movement and purpose of an individuated psyche.
A homebody with the earth as home―slightly
Recumbent on its axis. To take up the responsibility
Or to give up the responsibility for oneself. Vividly,
Both are predictors of suffering. The latter astonishing sum,
Prosaic lament at the tempo of an ocean aloud.
Washing in, washing out, frothy at the mouth―
Turbulence predicted, and exiled time after time,
Onto a muddy body that dreams of the sublime
Hammocked on small hours’ vapors we grasp,
Often, on the hypnotic swaying of seagrass―
Ill-disposed cons attempting to steal a breath
Away. If unsuccessful…
A head of ironic humor. A cranium of hidden hemispheres
Random sequencing egrets to the right, telling fibs,
And out to the left fledged on a wing and a wing.
A flight of continual white lightning in sync
To keeping-up eyes. Perceptible of themselves high,
Should these egrets be caged behind closed eyes―
How cramped, they’d…
Bubblegum wide-eyed dreamers
Painting the sun June and a swirly lollipop.
Sticky sweet full of grammatical boo-boos letters,
Red heart-shaped sign-offs
And see you the soonest.
But where do darlings go?
The first of firsts. The last of firsts.
Summer comes and, ‘I’m moving away.’
Up-sets us far away, sunbeam-borne away,
The mulish discipline of the uncaged sun freedoms.
A hazardous might of possible lugubrious fevers.
If dreamed, it sings like tinnitus and round a carousel
You go gaily, brightly you go round and about again
Until it turns nightmarish: on the back
Of every rocking horse, it’s you enacted
At varying stages of life. A peal…
Postmodern sages will awake from the blood-beat plows
Of the better fools’ veins, bravely willing to sprout
Free-spirited into the open-air yet ancestrally rooted,
They remember their history and learn from its bruises.
The harvesters of universal metaphors on how to cry,
To grieve, to dry tears, then sowers of these…
Homicidal denial. The trimming of one’s vision
Within the boundaries it can only stretch to driven
As far as the arrow of Pharisaic morality curves
To its halt of isms that badge the mind to rigid nerves;
No flying thing hovers above that disquiet frame
For there’s no one to venerate their seeing claim
The woken up dreamer. The swerving bright and viscous
Colors disrupted in their slow and hypnotic motion’s ambition.
Legs angle one hundred and eighty degrees steady,
Lifted taller. Fingers cave into fists if necessary,
Or open into palms with the expectation to attract
The empathy you’ve inspired, there’s little under that
To contend into a disappointment…
The second coming is a cycle of waking up probe
Until you don’t, of reaching to an innate hope,
Of winging on its astonishing workabilities in sum;
A daily glide of turning our faces to the unwearied sun
Pushing it down the rimming horizon of our eyes
While darkness stretches out, hush murmuring wise