a twisty verbiage, but stop!
it is not cutesy or frivolous,
but an awed respect,
for that fact;
the complexity of the monumental
is the sum of:
the bricks, the letters,
the words, the lines, the stanza and
of course, the spaces in between
that makes simple so ****
complex

a slip and fall, busted up face,
an ambulance ride, cute young
docs, a his and her, in a busy ER
always apologizing for causing
any pain, and now again, in
another waiting room for the
specialist surgeon to,

make reperfect what was imperfect
naturally, seasoned and aged,
a face lovely and decanted,
a nice blush, though she looks now
a fresh mugging victim

and here I am, thinking about
all the waiting rooms in a long
life that I’ve called home, a temporal
temple abode, for waiting, praying
and now surmising and now, even for
composing

let’s not talk of bland, pastel colors
way past the over limit of blandness,
acoustic tile ceilings water stained,
and “leatherette”  furniture,
that no else ever wanted in their
life, all sent off to die in the classical,
traditional rooms for waiting

births, deaths, diagnoses, verdicts
delivered, way stops on a traveling
life

a statement, a viewpoint directive, a casual formailty,
it says much about you, but is most telling, that, you,
took the time to debate how you wished to be percieved,
by the masses of humanity, as
  tucked of untucked?


for by it, you communicate your chosen philosopy of life

“stanza” like “camera”, in Italian,
means room,

the stanza is a room, avail&able
for any purpose,
but I understand it best as a storage place,
to be rented, renovated, refurbished and
redecorated, a part of your building,
and even, eventually, demolished…

the poetry is not lost on me, though I feel
foolish for my illiteracy, the last to know,
the obvious symmetry of a perfect latent metaphorical meta physicality…

then, for a stanza to run free is an
impossibility, for what purpose is it
containment functionality if it were
to run forever, failing to demarcate
needed boundaries, open to the outdoors
of air and light, allowing its contents
to escape freely…

or worse
go on endlessly…

so I reconfigure my entirety as mansion,
each poem a dwelling unit, each stanza,
a room there in, purposed, and oft connected
to an adjacent adjoining neighbor, througjh
an empty spacing, a camera if you will, to
vision a connective conjunction, a separate tissue bit of similar original cells

how I got here, what to do,
frozen like a banana, brown,
curved in a bad posture, and
melting aint an available cure

every turn defeats me, too many choices
leads me into more drowing in uncertainty,
the new~ow!~now~word of external tumult,
that wraps me me bound in a blankety submission

talk to walls white and their answers come
pre~whitewashed, reverb off my skin, and
the echo chambers of my heart resist only
because they're already 98% clogged and

very choosy 'bout which truths got left
out
or newbies get let
in
sad sack sanctum

a major feat, considering I managed to continue a meagered existence,
the prehumous perilous voyage, with many signs and symbols pointing
in reverse, negatory signs & symbols, readings of a launchpad failure, bode
poorly for my current trajctory, and a crash landing probability is assayed
at >1.00,  bas and the statistical fat tail portion of my curvaceous expectancies, extended bye the body count of my toes & fingers, so this mean & minor feat, is indeed, is no feat at all and worse here it is Friday, end of the week, and my sparring partner, Life, who knocked me down repeatedly is demanding a rematch of our outoutmatching, and I will agree if the ten count is abbreviated to maybe a five count, and mysteriously falling down, well, qualifies!
                                   yeah made it to Wed-nes-day which is a wierd name for a weekday, lacking the poetical syntax and symmetry of a Fried~day, which connotes the end of the byzantine workweek, and my goose is still
under cooked; so that wraps up & rates an almost full green emoji checkmark beside my 3,884th week

and I know, you know exactly what this tidbit means, donch ya!

the wordplay is **** serious,
fools curse us, attacking empathy
for its sensuous to their BS pretensions,
their hypertension sophistry compounds their

selling them selves  as a holy sphere,
begging for attention and the approval
appetizers of meaningless internet
bacchanal celebrating

I invite you in,
where depths surface
asking you to scratch deeper
than the shallows of egoism shoals

long labored to persaude with caution,
careful disclaimers, when you enter
our first encounter, that first most
dangerous embrace, asking you
to tag along inside insights
my intent plain, secrets
displayed with increasing
the leveling tween twice
an armful of hugs

this criticism disturbs my calm,
and so I repeat twice:

grant us the write to share, in our humanity

**grant us the write to share, in our humanity

stray thought: hard earned wisdom

is there any other kind?

the easy come ~ easy go kind,
kinda never quite sticks around
long enough to make an
indentation like facts, kinda like
factuals memorized for a school test,
gone so quick you never truly
had them to keep, beyond the
inevitable ending by a bell
ringing

true learning means the earning,
the earning is hard, painful, oft,
gained usually at greatly
but not~too~cheap a cost
which makes sense,
long,
or even short, 
knowing, comprehending, & remembering

can created to be
savored, favored, and welcomed
each time from the recesses it
comes unconsciously summoned

no one more surprised
than you!
at the value of
a memory precision tooled,
ready, willing and able,
to be re~loved when
the heart doth summon

like the face of the one who got away....

another night’s ocean liner passage, now
sunrise bookmarked, by prayer hailed,
when wet cheeks express emotional
humanity and a tissue better be handy

too many times this is how the day
greets me, and I, it, wetted and vetted
to have made it as far as one more,
having lived you in me, me in you,
an exchange of tonguing word
kisses,
that break me into pieces of
consolations

it’s embarrassing an elder man
weeps for no reason other than
words have swept him overboard,
crazy love this fascinating addiction
to a new morning’s addition  composition
incision on a plain soul indistinguishable
amidst the mist of millions of others
who rise up beside, aside, reside within
and his breached heart, even strangers,
complete the neuronal connection
that demands his years of years upon
awaking to the grinning fawning dawn
mooning him with pure white light that
wrecks him open, rents his disposition,
an inquisition of words intrusively intruding
causing wept tears fully formed energizing
emerging, songs of words that you give
him as a question to be loved, for finding
the answers multiple is a penultimate thrill,
confirming this wetness that he lives to
be loved, give love, and breaks h a p p i l y
into pieces of/if contented peace

and thus summed, the day’s obligations
seem less daunting, and with some
luck and bulk coffee ingestion, there
will be solutions to anything
and then
he types,

and this one,
done!
<>
6:49am
march 2 Sun Day
two zero two 5