The Information Age
bloomed & died
from wave after wave
of information inflation
and counterfeit information -
cheap knockoffs flooded
the market!
We live in a
post-information world:
an information junkyard,
to be precise.
Rusting, useless detritus
poses as treasure.
We catch glints
and think it value,
But even turds can glitter
in the Sun.
Ancient cathedral:
pews & altar
long gone.
Cold air creeps
through cracks
to flicker candles,
Candles lit for
those long dead —
though long remembered —
on a cold, winter day.
late afternoon sun
penetrates the pavilion —-
causing napper’s turn.
a shade of orange
that doesn’t exist in nature…
yet - there it is!
Sun-sparkles on the lake’s far end
look icy cool beneath blue skies,
but Winter shivers, I suspend,
because late Spring is telling lies.
legs in leaf litter,
garden lanterns catch light
that pierces bare woods.
bare branches,
in the Winter forest,
look frost-covered.
through a window:
first ripples of a Spring rain
seen on a pond.
The train is speeding down the line.
Gold Buddha glints in the sunshine.
Jarring is the train whistle’s whine,
we plunge into a dark tunnel.
So many hills I have seen
That grow so soft and thick and green.
Though jagged rocks sit down below
The grass and shrubs and weeds that grow
Through cracks and gaps, in mud patches --
Sprawling wide from tight-knit batches
That stone cannot constrain or kill.
