#evidence
Closing checklists are bridles.
The door locks on a timer.
Once, sweeping the parking lot,
I found a pair of women’s black underwear,
abandoned in the night.
I had no story to lend them,
or the weight of some metaphor.
Just evidence left behind
when someone kept moving.
I keep moving.
Let timers do their work.
Past the skinny boy
playing harmonica on the bridge,
collecting tips in his shoe.
The man, five paces west,
jaw chewed raw,
liquor stamped into his face
like a punch clock
about to roll midnight.
I learned early
what stays safest is sealed.
Doors shut.
Windows covered.
In artificial light I did fine,
my childhood room tight as a toolbox,
from step-mother, father,
and the extremes of their weather.
I worked paper the way men work wire.
Fold, crease, press flat.
No guessing.
Follow the lines even when they weren’t there.
Angelfish.
Swan.
Dragonfly.
Held their shape,
once you taught them how.
They stayed boxed under the bed,
layered in dust,
my childhood stored like spare parts
waiting out a flood
no one talked about
until it passed.
Out here nothing seals.
The bridge holds.
The world follows slow,
just behind me.
No walls to press against.
Open water. Open air.
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 2:35 PM UTC
I saw them there on Easter Island, facing
the way they do
eyes wide and white, unblinking.
They’re cool little hats.
Who knows what they were thinking?
To move that much stone
up and down all day, every day.
All work and no play.
I would listen if they had anything to say.
And then I see these men.
Dressed in finery. Never in rags.
Bejeweled and dazzled,
clutching handbags.
And they’ve got these bags everywhere too.
Don’t believe me? You’ll find them in the jungle. It’s true.
You’ll see them in the desert there as well,
clutching them on every continent,
to the ends of Earth, to the depths of hell.
What’s in the bag, man?
What’s in the bag?
They’ll never tell.
But they’ve got them clear as day.
Göbekli Tepe.
Carahan Tepe.
Tiwanaku. Peru
Ancient Assyria. Babylonia.
The bags are there too.
the way to go from here to Cydonia.
Pretty sweet too, and just the right size.
One day we may stop and realize
that some things are just ubiquitous and cool.
Humans always make things that are interesting and fun.
We’ve done it since day one.
Like the dragons we see?
From Tokyo and Taipei,
to England in its heyday.
They seem to be the way.
You got winged serpents of every shape and size,
from the earliest carvings, from the earliest minds
to hands and eyes.
They got the scales, they’ve got the wings,
they’ve got the tail, they’ve got the look,
and it took the time it took from
to bring them into reality.
They’re cool and they’re still there,
just flying up there in the air.
Wings spread and beguiling,
tongue flicking out, teeth shining and smiling.
From Bali to Turkmenistan.
India to Iran.
It doesn’t matter.
Like the handbags and the junk grabbing,
they’re everywhere.
The people who made them didn’t seem to care.
It’s like,
“Yep, here is my wiener. Deal with it, there.”
They look cool too.
Naval accentuation, they try and tell us.
As if men have ever cared about belly buttons.
They’re too busy.
Hoarding wives and being gluttons.
Obelisk or church steeple?
Plain as day
that’s a big ole phallus, people.
And through our minds and hearts,
through the ages, they flew.
They’re still here,
and we love them as much now as we ever have,
and do.
So, Stop chiseling them off.
Grinding them down,
smoothing them away.
They were there and we know it
and it's OK.
Dragons, handbags.
and monstrous ***** phalluses.
We love those too.
Nothing old,
nothing new.
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Oct 10, 2025
Oct 10, 2025 at 5:27 PM UTC
History does not repeat itself, though often do circumstances and/or situations.
History does not unfold, though often lost are evidences and/or records.
History is not manifested, though often are causes and/or reasons.
History is not fabricated, though often changed are definitions and/or interpretations.
History simply happens -
Now, Here;
Here, Now.
This is Time's Nature.
Even as it happens,
Even to those party to it,
Understanding & conveying it can be difficult.
This is the Nature of Time.
Jul 31, 2025
Jul 31, 2025 at 2:03 PM UTC
Late October,
and they have assuredly returned.
A canopy of clusters.
At second glance
the leaves on the trees are wings.
Whisper into the dreamscape
for they sense your voice.
Revive them with your breath.
Hold out your hand
like you hold out hope.
The warm sound of flutterings.
Circadian clocks in their antennae,
a sense of where they've been
and where they are going.
The gift from their Creator
moves them in the right direction.
Apr 24, 2025
Apr 24, 2025 at 10:28 PM UTC
If evidence is incrimination,
Then fleeting art is an exoneration.
Like pictures drawn in the sand,
Like lightning turning sand to glass;
As though a constellation were made from a man,
As though a mule became a golden ***
Mar 1, 2025
Mar 1, 2025 at 12:18 PM UTC
You guys really messed up that message-
Do you have the postage? Addresses?
The records & reports
For what you purport?
Are all the passages
Just rewritten, or
Pages overwritten?
Torn out or rearranged?
Perhaps overlooked?
No longer properly understood?
Is the truth lurking out there,
Somewhere?
Buried under heaps of rubble,
Covered by mud & dirt.
Wipe the muck off.
Through the weeds & brush,
Thorn & thrush,
Save the vine & water the bush.
Get looking.
Feb 14, 2025
Feb 14, 2025 at 8:47 PM UTC
If you harbor spite
For the perception of it in others
But lack the strength to investigate,
It's better to refrain from assumptions.
Perhaps you're picking up
On something that isn't real,
But a fiction of your imagination.
Perhaps they weren't serious.
Unless you have concrete evidence,
Something that confirms your suspicions.
But then, without cross-examination,
That's just another assumption.
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 2:33 AM UTC
saw evidence of
reality ignored it
poor human mistake
Aug 6, 2023
Aug 6, 2023 at 8:14 PM UTC
i feel like i am the only one hanging on
even the wind could blow us apart
your fingertips traced the cracks in my heart
the pieces a mosaic of pain
your disposition in the shadow of vain
how do flowers bloom?
is it natural, too focused on the factual
tunnel vision, student of the actual
if you wanted to, you would
if you sought to, we would
Sep 29, 2022
Sep 29, 2022 at 6:26 AM UTC
What values are important
for us to incorporate desire,
should we specify requirements
but be conscious of the finite?
See self intent is quickly spent
as finances continue in transition.
Look for subtle added evidence
when hierarchy of needs remain,
and the cost of which we claim climbs.
The spiralled stage in which we play
is a vast and varied space in height.
We need flexibility for growth through
both hardship and the comfort zones.
Nov 13, 2021
Nov 13, 2021 at 11:31 AM UTC
Cut the limbs
off a boundary
of trees,
and the police come running.
He was more supported--
there was evidence--
twisted branches
on the ground--
video of it
in action.
It took three days
to go from comfort
to sorrow--
she who freed me
also made me
a ghost.
My i
diminished--
blood on all
my four walls.
I'm still
the only one
who sees red.
His wife doesn't seem to care.
She can always deny
everything
and stick her head
in another book.
May 18, 2021
May 18, 2021 at 8:00 PM UTC
I see you behind clouds grey
The beaming sunshine after a storm
Evidence of beauty in tragedy
I see you in glistening oceans
Unsure of the waters awaiting past horizon
Evidence of beauty in uncertainty
I see you in dancing fields
The swaying of grass to the perennial hum of the wind
Evidence of beauty in tranquil
I see you in a tight hug
The comfort it offers
Evidence of beauty in safety
I see you in every little thing
Because people believe what they want to believe
People see what they ought to see
And I believe that I see you in all the beautiful things —
Evidence of love so pure.
I hope you do, too
If you could just see me too.
Mar 21, 2021
Mar 21, 2021 at 9:40 AM UTC
Days may package themselves in lessons
learned long before
any hearing ear may think these words
as thoughts a reader hears aloud,
angelic,
not tremble and bow, but
wow,
truth has a voice.
No lie can hide the echo, that has always
been key, qi, chi
cheeky. Cheapshot bullseye.
Wanna see it again.
Been there, done that.
You remember, it was your idea, but you
let it go.
Mar 15, 2021
Mar 15, 2021 at 5:20 PM UTC
“Here’s the contract,
sign the line
with your codes
don’t forget the
shared collateral
Keep it clean
there’s a spot
between the Eyes
where the feeds
can’t see
Make it petty
grab the dirt
and his wallet
we’ll call it
‘botched robbery’
He was ****
tried to show
what we said
at the 'Yard
last summer”
… I forgot the wallet.
Jan 20, 2021
Jan 20, 2021 at 5:27 PM UTC
-
they have empirically evidenced
a spectral existence within
computer imagery of
small glowing
orbs
~ o ~
_"yawn"_
if i found myself in the middle of
these things as they bank off the
walls and nudge against my arm–
batting their lil' eyes at me,
it would likewise illicit from me
the perception of a largely
innocuous event,
___But___—
the
creeping
shadow of
a skeletal hand
appearing to reach
for my shoulder from
the opening of a doorway
within the steady limitations of
a traditional negative photograph–
would most certainly
pull me into
___it's___
reality...
s jones
2021
.
Jan 17, 2021
Jan 17, 2021 at 2:56 PM UTC
Disturbance - Rant
in the depth of today's disturbance, there is an escape
the overwhelming evidence is in the art of discovery
learning how wrong or how right you are by the intoxicating evidence
evidence, that both sides seem to have and believe
that my friends is where a disturbance dwells
in the mirror, you will greet the only someone that can change the outcome...
happy holidays and may the image in the mirror be the one you expect
Brian Hill - 2020 # 351
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 10:13 AM UTC
~
*Moonlit angels keep turning the wheels of the universe
In conversations with God, they placed the Sun precisely in the centre
Alarum and escapement keep the gear train moving forth:
Astronomical clock, armillary sphere, lunar phases in sidereal time
All patterns of evidence -- releasing our impulses, advancing our hands*
~
Dec 16, 2020
Dec 16, 2020 at 9:52 AM UTC
When you hung the decor from the rafters,
and built these walls with the prints of your fingers;
proceeded to line the floors with flowers, wedged into gaps,
that were inconspicuous until each bud and shoot grew
Speak to me, everything you wanted to say;
feeble may it be with the dull edge of your knife,
softened by the mishandled touch of your previous lovers,
delicate from your pain, so you learned to be silent -
never swift, never sure.
Your silent words fluttered in and out of sight,
seared into my home like the etch of fire on word,
ingrained till the grains were no longer marks, but my haven
please tell, for a long time I've known, all this is true.
Nov 24, 2020
Nov 24, 2020 at 11:17 AM UTC