the lion wind blows.
all about is rippling chaos,
but for the goddess
who dances in the
furious center,
pausing on one foot
as the dust swirls
in angry spasms.
Gods & Monsters [Free Verse]
1
From the dark depths
of a temple,
eyes open & blink
against the sunlight
pouring through
a narrow second set
of eyes.
What shapes form across
the way?
It's the roof of a second --
more ancient -- temple
that stands across
the street.
This monk has opened
eyes on that view a
thousand times before,
and each time has
forgotten the centuries
old neighboring temple
existed.
Everyone gets to be a person,
Few become icons:
What is it to have a lasting
image more well-known
than one's work?
Che Guevara, Bruce Lee,
Heath Ledger's Joker --
Images you can find on
back-alley walls from Lagos
to Prague to Kochi
to Seoul to Santiago
and back again.
Seen day-after-day by people
who never saw Enter the Dragon
or read of the Cuban Revolution,
or saw Nolan's Batman Trilogy,
but they know the faces.
They have thoughts about them
-- and, sometimes, strong feelings --
just like so many people have
thoughts about Alexander the Great
based solely on his name
and a rough impression of history.
What must this be...
blessing or curse ...
if icons had some way to care?
There's something relentless
in an old stone wall...
But, also, cold and dead.
One knows it will not stand forever --
that it will go the way of
ruins, rubble, stones, and dust --
but, still, it can outstand any man.
Ivy climbs to camouflage the stone's
cruel deathlessness,
But then the ivy stands on the wall
year after year after year...

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.