#forefinger
throughout the day,
so so many times,
not to ascetically
ascertain the wind’s
tumultuous blustery re~direction
no far far more mundane,
as I sashay about my complected
complex of the single room of my
life,
with wetted finger tip,
from the floor, I deft retrieve
the detritus of my life, my
leavings become my takings,
many scraps of symbolisms,
actualized dirt, so named when
to the floor they are fall~felled,
uninterrupted
unnoticed,
white & speckled objects,
of all coloeurs,
chips and chaps of my existence,
floated or fallen,
to the floor’s dry ocean bed,
ripped paper scraps,
vegetable peelings,
in equal weight
nature’s man made fruits,
of daily life retrieved to
be re~disposed, reposed,
dumped, composted,
literati composed,
when the atoms of my many
saliva’d fingertip
electron edged magnetized,
lift these assorted sordid,
all are recycled, these
itinerant social words
and verbs, and
POOF!
“there goes another rubber tree poem…”
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 4:28 PM UTC
___I am sand___ _- drifting formlessly, settling briefly;
dusting edges traced clean by housekeeping’s judicious forefinger._
___I am sand___ _- black with iron and ****** wrath;
shattering glassily against a wine-stained ceiling._
___I am sand___ _- my trespasses turned to pearl;
rippled and flurrying, wedged between sandal-clad toes._
___I am sand___ _- porous with desire yet disarmed by possibility;
a fortress on the brink of invasion by the sea._
___I am sand___ _- recalled to the desert, claggy with melancholy;
a loping caravan of travail, westward bound._
___I am sand___ _- measureless and infinitely uncontainable;
sifting from hour to hour...and life to life._
Sep 7, 2020
Sep 7, 2020 at 3:40 AM UTC