I stared, and stared, into a leaf
until my vision changed.
And I could see the whole, wide world
so artfully arranged.
The leaf, it mapped my universe
from atom to the sprawl.
Compressed, layer-on-layer, there
was one and, at once, all.
But before I could grasp all that
this vision truly meant,
a gust of wind did catch that leaf,
and fluttering it went.
morning offering with a melon wedge; a bas-relief face seems to have bitten a chunk, and is prepared to spit seeds.
so much power
in a lazy rolling wave
as it tips into a tube.
a column of
weighty water
piledrives:
pressing one down &
holding one in a
back-shaped divot
on the sandy bottom,
a forced pour
onto face and chest,
flowing & rolling
over both sides with
such easy skill
as to negate a
frantic, thrashing
attempt to roll free.
frozen silence.
but for the rustle of breeze
against dry grass.
snow will come,
and a crust of snow
will settle in crystalline
interlock with the brown stalks.
the snow will absorb sound,
muffling reality,
until nothing remains but
frozen silence.
The dogs of war are slipping. The ropes they are a ripping. The palms they are a bleeding, as citizens are reading of risks that led to slippage: of quips and of equipage, and how it wasn't expected, and courses were corrected, but still it all goes wrong.
momma monkey, eyes and hands at the ready, foresees darting babe.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 