Hour 23: The Past I to III

I

How does one begin to talk about the past?

Come in and take off your shoes

Don’t step on anything delicate

There’s lots of that round here

 

II

My mouth is broken

It has been for quite some time

Sometime I was

                 Trespassed

                 Transgressed

And you can’t put back together

                  A trashed China doll

                  A broken crystal glass

                  A shattered snow globe

                  To the way it was before

Restore it

                   It cannot be returned

Instead it becomes a new object

Jagged edges and fangs

For cutting

                On accident, on purpose

 

III

It was not pleasant.

That’s okay

It hurt too much.

That’s okay

Dandelion girls, it’s okay now.

Pavement kicker

Dirt digger

Boy kisser

Come on home

What a mess it was.

That’s okay

We made mistakes.

That’s okay, too

Can’t stay all day in the cold.

Hour 22: Honey Hive

Honey Hive

Oh perfect, coordinated machinations

Colony in tandem, unison

Self-regulating, cultivating, communicating, replicating

Glowing hexagonal precision

Electric buzz of glass wings

Over factory conditions

Yellow gold waxen beauties

Building the future

Hour 21: Butterfly Garden

Butterfly Garden

The butterflies dance together

Tied by invisible thread

Wings spread in silent flutter

Poppies wait for them to land

 

Tied by invisible thread

Alight, afloat in the garden

Poppies wait for them to land

Velvet or sage, nasturtium

 

Alight, afloat in the garden

Tumble with blue damsel fly

Velvet of sage, nasturtium

Blue damsel and bee hurry by

 

Tumble with blue damsel fly

The butterflies dance together

Blue damsel and bee hurry by

Wing spread in silent flutter

 

Hour 20:

Found Poem, from

Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot

They will sing to me

Etherized Visions and revisions

I have known deserted streets

Squeezed the universe into corners

Each to each

Time to turn back, prepare a face

Almost ridiculous

A magic lantern

Hour 19: A Response to Bed in Summer

A Response to Bed in Summer

(By Robert Louis Stevenson, from  Child’s Garden of Verse)

As a child I saw your words,

Things fell into place.

You spoke as a child to a child,

And I heard

The mystery of the earth turning its seasons

And the injustice of infancy

Your words sat in me

Seeds that took root, that eternally grow

Hour 18: Dear Old Age and Dear Jesus

Dear Old Age,

You scare me

You’re the only thing that truly does

Death isn’t the problem

It’s the slow decline on the way there

It’s the decay

The disappointment

The endless letting go

so much work

 

Dear Jesus,

I suspect you’ve been reborn, a lot

That you come here all the time

We’re just too dumb to notice

 

Hour 17: Dandelions

Dandelions

As a kid, I didn’t care that dandelions were weeds

Pick them all!

Crushed stems filled fat little hands

Till little hands were bitter with milky sap

And when they had gone to seed

Their bobbing over sized heads

White and tufted

It took so many breaths

To send those weed seeds drifting

Hour 16: Maybe

Maybe

I always thought we’d finish this road together

But as the years turn

More certainties become maybes

Your ring is melting on the horizon

A tear drop of molten gold

 

You say it’s time to part ways

You grow apart like the branches of a bough

Maybe this was always in the DNA of the tree

Maybe we could have read it in the leaves

Or in the way the hawk screech scrapes the sky

Maybe from his circle he sees how it will pan out

 

If you’re happier, then I suppose there are other paths

If you’re lonely, then I suppose there are other types of together

And if you’re leaving, maybe there are other destinations 

They just are not ours anymore

Hour 15: The Beginning

The Beginning

Beautiful before beauty

destroyer and creator

Out of the vacuum

Out of the oscillations

Out of the vibrations

we were born

hot with no observer

from the silent, bubbling crucible

 

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