Posts for June 11, 2023 (page 3)

Before we fly,
we must fall,
but how many times
must we fail
to finish our fables
Only fools make
the same mistake
many times over
For is not repetition
the meaning of madness?
Pigeons perhaps,

These days, I find myself
a fool. Beckon call.
Lamb to the slaughter
Rush in with only intent
and memories meant
to be made, malnourished
into craven little things
Pigeons perhaps,

Dirty doves, flocking
together after a fall
Rising in requiem as
feathered failures
fanning each other’s
futures like a fire inflamed

Pigeons perhaps,

how does absence
fit in a room with only two people
deeply in love?

knowing it’s foolish, I ask the cards
if I will be okay. the big Okay.
    any opposition will be defeated. courage
    in the face of attack or adversity
    that cannot be removed.

I grin at Evelyn. it’s the last of five cards
and I placed it at the top. I shuffle
and put one card down. I’m asking
about you.
    the face suggests that of a dark woman
    whose qualities might be summed up
    in the idea of greatness of soul.
          she has also the serious cast of intelligence.
I make a rainbow of my mouth.
              she contemplates her symbol and may see
              worlds therein.
Evelyn asks me what I want from you. maybe
it’s nothing now. maybe to see you
a few more times.
                    opulence, magnificence, generosity,
                                                                      security,
                                                                              liberty.

You can’t see what’s behind the

waterfall,
white frothy splashing,
constant crashing,
piercing chillness, slicing through the air, 
like an apparition.

Truth(set e) lasts an instant,
Illusory as isolating a drop of water
from this natural wonder;
And every instant
Demands,
as sure as
a singular officer
Confirms
The existence of the battalion,
Synecdoche
A truth as Heavy in your stomach
Exerts the Pressure of cosmos compressed explosions
Like the earth’s mantle on
Its core;
A fatal decision
Of fealty

Every universal truth
Commands its own universe
And every drafted cell
Must enter alone
Forced Nuclear fission
From source
Dropped from the helicopter
Wind deciding for you
To close your eyes
Through the blistering fall
(The view below is blurry, anyway)

To exist enter the universe
Alone
In the universe (set a)
And remember
Source (set b)
Demands the existence of (set c= set a + set b)
Set c which contains set a and set b
To create an entire universe
Is the sole way
To fulfill the present this true quest

The image of the
waterfall
Serves
To dampen the memory of
the turmoil of isolation

The peace ensures
The existence of
Dread
Of
Desolation
Ensures
…. (And so on.)

You observe the waterfall
The truth of the observation
Is enough to bisect your brain

Into

One which can preserve
The image of the waterfall
Alone

And

One which can remember
The threat of

The existence of 
Schrödinger’s volcano
Its hacking infernal coughs reverberate like intermittent roars
Expunging boiling waste and guilt

For memories you don’t have

Because the waterfall preserves
Danger far beneath
The earth
Beneath the wells
Aquifers
Groundwater
That self cycles

Above a fiery core
(Which connects to the volcano)

And the bisect exists still
(And set c exists still)

You can’t see behind the waterfall
Where exists the treasure chest
Exists like the existence of the waterfall
Ensures the existence of the
Treasure chest
Glowing softly
Warm and loving and true
A treasure chest which contains
Protects
Epitomizes
The truth
Even the ones
You can’t believe the most

Glossary
Set d= set a+ set b+ set c
Contains {set c is true} and {set c is false}
Set e= set a+ set b+ set c+ set d
….
(And so on.)

The intensity of a weekend
with humans who change the world
in their own small ways

accumulating and resonating
with people impacted,
making big changes and shifts

in a world where it’s easy to get lost in gloom,
let me just say,

I recommend it.

Carry that energy and inspiration back home
and pass it on.  

It’s what we all need.

The hills looked sparked with a flame
Leaves of ember dancing in the wind
Vibrant reds and oranges struck with yellow
Like a match struck across sulphur 
Ablaze on the mountaintop 
Sparks fluttering down to the earth
So bright these flecks of fire still burning on the ground 
Permanent impressions of that fire
Marked across the forest floor 

Said
I know God won’t give
me more than I can handle

But
I wish he didn’t 
trust me so much

I’m right there with ya Sister. 

It’s tiresome to be polite.
Putting on a mask in front of the masses,
showing them you through rose-tinted glasses,
painting a smile on your face
when the inside is in some other place.

“Let’s go ape-shit, let’s go crazy!”
says a voice deep inside
that wants to squash this daisy
of a person I showcase
with me having no trace

Clawing and screaming
they try to get out, shouting,
“Let’s spew chaos about,
release the monster deep within,
the one they tell you to keep caged in.
Bring down the management
that has created faulty establishments
you know you want to bare your teeth
say ‘Fuck you!’ to the elitists fleet
and ‘No!’ when they take a seat at your table
just because they believe they are able.”

A gradual crescendo this voice has been in
since I was young, just a little kid.
It wants me to stand,
be the one who commands,
instead of just saying “I understand.”

What happens when I let go of control
and let the monster take ahold?
Will I end up in ruin and turn to sin
or will I fall into the role I was always meant to be in
and not stuck on Society’s mood board, pinned?

Who wants to know what happens?
Who wants to see me loosen the fastens
unlock the monster cage
and give in to the rage?
Let me know and I’ll turn to the next page.

My mouth opens wide to a multicolor madness of modeling
and believe me, there are no catwalks for these.

Speckled dots rest like tossed confetti across the molars 
because pharmaceutical intervention for Scarlet Fever from childhood
destroys enamel beneath baby gums and will surface only if the infant survives

Well, here I am…ready to celebrate.
Open-bite and crooked grinned.
Metal braces and oral contraptions fought and pulled to make me smile like a homecoming queen,
And lost the fight in a years-long battle with natural elements.

The irony of having a mouth full of crowns now.
Royalty, indeed!

If I went to Vegas I’d bet it all
but keep my signature closed-mouth grin from revealing the royalty therein.
I wonder which suit they’d be:

Hearts for my  decades-long desire to find a full smile?
Diamonds for the shine that will never be?
Clubs for the enamel that doesn’t break?
Spades for the winter white that I long to see?

You’ll catch them when my guard is down–