~~~

“La natura è piena d infinite ragioni che nò furò mai in isperiètia”
Leonardo da Vinci

~~~

think
that the very next millisecond blink
will be, reveal a, theater curtain rising,
a play of your composition,
a painting of your composure,
a newly cresting reason,
infinite in number,
infinitesimal aggrandizing majesty in granular shapes,
a shock so grand you say out loud willingly,

therefore, I am

the first word
of the next page or poem you turn to,
will change your No. 1 reason for living,
to your knees dropped trembling,
comprehending the renaissance of his
isperiètia (experience)

there are infinite books and infinity words,
do the probability calculation of inspiration
and confess
every sun rising, every rainbow unexpected,
every moonlight solstice,
every glance freely stolen taken,
is nature,
your nature, revealed,
unsealed

these are your unveilings,
revealing the fullness of you,
the likeness of discovery
how what we see in our uncommonality
is our communion










~~~

This year marks the quincentennial of the death of Leonardo da Vinci, the Italian Renaissance master who died in May 1519.

You spoke to me about a forever kind of love and into a forever kind of love I fell. Then at the peak you walked away forgetting the chains you forged that bound me to you. Unbreakable i hope, and so I must remember that mountains have more then one peak.

for vicki who loves this poem for the best reason ever: just does...
<•>
read a thousand love stories,
pause, rest awhile,
read ten thousand more,
and then deny equality.

If you ask for no more than you can give,
you ask for not enough

love is imbalance not an equation,
with a single solution

love has both constants and variable factors

so you write of tribulations and tributes
so you write of lamentations and liftings

you think you are on the same page
perhaps
but do we not all read at different paces?

one of you is solid, one is dotted and dashed
one of you is straight, one is bent, forever curving

when you think you are
in balance
in the same place
in syncopation

perhaps you are for a moment
a calculus of one point on a trajectory

and you say I can only ask for what I give
and am given
and no more,
you have miscalculated

this flux
flummoxed
when the old terrain is flayed flat
but thru the windshield you see the
plateau ends, the geography unknown,

when you see unknown
when you seek the unknown
when you give from places you did not know
you had to give from
when you kiss a hand
for  twenty minutes more than than the one minute you intended
when you give more than is asked
when you ask for more than you can you think you can give
the imbalance that  is the only concert
the imbalance that is the the only constant

how do I know this?

what are my credentials?

you are not a teenage girl,
what matters of what you know, recall of these matters?

I am who I am
a diversity of man and manner;
I am past prime and in decline
but this I know
for having failed ten thousand poem times
you must ask for more than one can give

but that's not fair!

silly one, still wretched confused,
even after one hundred thousand poem times

you must ask of
yourself
more than you can give
and ask no less
demand no less

a body in emotion is not a body in rest
when the imbalance is too great or insufficient

then you write a poem
look in the mirror that cannot lie
and move
on
or
move off

  begin to ask
yourself
to whom may I give myself
more than is asked.
then you have finally asked
the correct solution to the
unsolvable equation
---

Broken heart,
I shall fix  
to move inside peace.
kintsukuroi

Broken things,
I will mend
to hold with smiling eyes.
kintsukuroi

Broken dreams,
I shall repair
to grow new grand ones.
kintsukuroi

Broken relationships
I shall mend
to reconnect with family.
kintsukuroi

Broken life,
I will fix
inside gratitude
and celebration.
kintsukuroi

a (the) woman’s body (pretty pleasing)

is my reciprocal

her waist is my happy place

her neck is my doorway

the rest is
best when she is mirror accessorizing,
preening, **** upon first rising,
tallying the gains and the losses

unaware of my watching,
never satisfied she, tho she is 98% unadmitting contented,
as she shifts her weight,
from knee to knee extended alternating
with slow delicacy

for the pleasure is trebled
for her imagine image reverberates
throughout the house

for ever mirror is pre-positioned
accidentally angled just so

she doesn’t know and asks why I’m grinning,
answer is
no confessionary, no telling I’m sinning,

eyes scheming-dreaming of her reciprocity

she smiles and says  
“good morning bad boy”

maybe she does know
but you won’t tell her,
we, you and me,
are pretty pleasing

she is 1/me
she is won over me

wri
ting is
threading
your           life
thro             ugh
a ne           edle
and         if
you sew
secrets
you'll
get
po
ke
d
a
l
i
t
t
l
e
.

He looks at me the way all girls dream to be looked at
Like I’m his sun, moon and every star in his sky

I am not waiting for you to suddenly change
Be all the things you said
The only thing I am waiting for
Is you to get out of my head

I wasn't born
With this hole in my heart
But it developed gradually
When pain drilled my chest to cling it's art.
Oh! I was smiling radiating the usual rainbow colours!
But just then, I was grayed and torn
Just like  withered flowers!
The pain! Yes the pain
Is unbearable
My tears all are in vain
They are just emotional fool , being unstoppable!
I am fed up of emotional breakdown
My soul became mournful, being lost in the ghost town!
I know, sorrows are part of life
But how can I frequently bear the pain that cut deeper than the knife!
I try my best to just forget and move on
But what shall I do when I am trapped in the useless emotion?