A streetcorner Socrates calls out those who grow forests of words -- not because he doesn't love the trees, but because they impede his view, making for perpetual dimness in a mind that craves light. The trick is not to clearcut, but to leave only that which enhances the view.
a swallowtail lands; crashed into by another, it doesn't flinch; ten feet away, I lean in and it flutters away
Nature dresses up the detritus of our fallen civilizations. After all but the most resolute stonework has crumbled, cool faces of stone having sloughed off to leave rugged, pitted rock, all that stands testament to life is the tall grass that sways in the wind.
I saw a bucktoothed monkey sit on the ground all alone. It looked the doofus - its dental- mental shortfall shone, but is the size of incisors a measure of one's smarts? Has anyone done the study, gathered data, made the charts? What if that dentally-outsized primate is a dreamer- a mastermind, a supervillain, or just a first-rate schemer? What if it just wants us to think that it's a huge dimwit? So, it doesn't show its erudition, or its razor-keen wit. Instead, it waits for us to be lulled to a false repose, so that it can show us we're all a bunch of biased schmoes.
in the desert, the sunrise burns brightly, as if sand burned
the spider’s mind
is one with the silken web,
tripped by vibration
turning towards one,
the sloth bear becomes
more bear than sloth
hugging a wall,
the tree stands suspended;
life finds a way
two birds feed; one eats, and one wonders about the other
Tiger Riding for Beginners 