In the world of mechanical birds, birds that whir and chink and prance with mechanistic precision, I miss warbles and trills and chaotic flight paths.
The New Bird Order [Free Verse]
1
Tag Archives: Free Verse
Quiet Moments of Glorious Perfection [Free Verse]
People pray for blinding, deafening magic. Instead, they should make themselves keen observers of the mundane miracles. Those little magic moments like seeing a baby's smile or crossing over a green ridge to face a snow-capped mountain. Feel these rare moments to their fullest, rather than wishing to be dazzled by grand displays of the supernatural. Those loud miracles will probably never happen, and - if they do - one who hasn't become attuned to hearing the quiet moments of glorious perfection might still miss them.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Out-of-Body [Free Verse]
I'm floating, or - perhaps - flowing. I can't tell sans gravitational pull. I want to reach for something solid, but I have nothing with which to reach. I want to scream, but I have nothing with which to make sound. So, I'm left to yearn. All I can do is yearn - yearn my ass off - and variations, thereof: -pine, -aspire, -crave, -wish, -etc. The Epicureans believed in soul particles [lighter & finer than body particles] and I wonder whether my soul particles could knock loose a feather precariously balanced on the edge of a dresser?
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Island [Free Verse]
I've lived on islands - some surrounded by sea, and some not, islands of isolation - cut off and cut out - fringed with nothingness. In the quiet of a cave inside a mountain on that island amid the ocean vast, I found myself both on an island & being an island.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
In Praise of Multiplicity [Free Verse]
Everybody seeks oneness, but maybe one with everything is too much, it's a state in which one is lost, irrelevant, and unloved - all at once. Maybe it's better to be tied to the mast - like Odysseus - straining to make that dangerous connection, but unable to, the connection of non-connection, the love of longing, of trying, but not of being plugged in -- air-gapped to prevent resonance at a frequency that would shatter one's soul.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Sea Gate [Free Verse]
The gate faced the sea. It seemed like a strange place for a gate. The sea spray of crashing waves flew up to douse those who passed through. Which way was in? Which way was out? And then I accepted that "in" & "out" were meaningless constructs, and that it was a portal between infinities.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Wide Open Spaces [Free Verse]
out of my cell & onto the trail i walk the vast expanse, the vault of heaven above & hills of rolling green beneath my feet and clouds barge through blue skies like thoughts barge through my mind - sluggishly but inevitably
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Those Who Bled for the City [Free Verse]
blood runs to the gutters, flowing and whirling, a sluicing pink juice that circles and sloshes down the drain most did not feel the missing blood, but it came from each and every one of them - the locals, the exiled, the travelers, and the ne'er-do-wells - all bled into the city, and something grew from that protein slurry most contributed only drips & drops, but some hemorrhaged, giving their liquid selves for something they couldn't anticipate
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Chiaroscuro Green [Free Verse]
densely packed stands of pine, the dark green insinuating black shadow set against the verdant grassy meadows and shaggy scrubland it makes the mountain look angular, with sharp edges pounded into shape the pine-writ shadows steal depth, suggesting absence, creating the impression of emptiness, a false void... or so it seems
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Long Shadows [Free Verse]
long autumn shadows stretch across the pavement and it might just be that everything has stretched out time and thought and hope and love and life and mystique all smeared across the day like shadows smear across the ground it's a slowing of the mundane as the mood grows sadder winter's melancholy is moving on the wing
Tiger Riding for Beginners 