#scan
Above cliffs a condor soars.
Through its eyes I scan the world
My inner being in flight.
Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 11:32 PM UTC
Scream, Memory
Accidents don't happen on holiday,
do they?
Standing in the shower, I stare out of
a tiny window at the setting sunlight.
In a row, children on a rustic bench
chatter through their colored ices
and kick their sandaled feet.
Soon, a tall, bland man appears
with smiles for all--this is his family
and he is happy.
His ambiance is like a drug so I leave
my caravan, barely dry,
Wanting to speak to him and not knowing why.
His good fortune draws one to him,
Yet I find another reason.
He directs me without words
to a desolate room and a gown.
And I remember...that I have not remembered
lately. And my collection of names is dwindling,
memory leaking like a wire basket.
Even before I don the ugly robe and lie down
on a cold, plastic bench,
I know what the diagnosis will be.
The cylindrical tunnel looms and his nurse or wife
motions to it as he still smiles.
The machine roars like time passing
And I emerge carefully, not wanting to know.
Seeing my expression, he turns on me:
"It is bad news, but also sad."
He tilts his head like a bird, self-satisfied.
His vacuous delight belies the words.
What the hell is the difference, I think.
And like a falling tree, reality splits the dream
And knocks down my life.
I weep, uncontrolled.
It does not help to swear
nor to hit the wall with my fist.
But would it help to slap the doctor?
People crowd around and tell me to stop
but, as I had to when my father died,
I continue to rave.
For, what is simple to them
I will not make so to me.
I will mourn and censure Fate!
And if I still must,
I will not go gently
But scream all that I remember
Into the fading light.
April 19, 2019
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 9:49 AM UTC
is it any wonder
social constructions
**** the soul?
i am born.
entire constellations
ingested by men
who stole the
braver buck.
is it any wonder
the higher numbers
**** the low?
artists hide their holy
proper alkahest
swirl into the torrent
eyes fixed on the hole
going full Atropos
by slashing tethers
and teaching us to fly
is it any wonder
construction kills abstraction
encrusts the brilliant stone
in destructive gray?
is it any wonder
emotional capacities
have been bled from me?
they must bless the fallen
they must make Halal
the bounteous
human feast
an exoteric world rises
while one esoteric burrows
in bright dark underneath.
two parts of a whole broken
banished to disconnection
when dichotomies could meet.
. . . SCAN COMPLETE
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 1:08 AM UTC
keen eyes scan around,
for the mystery concealed;
unseen but right here!
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 8:34 AM UTC
She travelled her eyes
My, head to toes
Seems nothing interesting.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 8:48 AM UTC
My fingers are birds
flying over white and black
taking steps, whole and half
My foot is a pedal
press it, change the sound
My eyes are a barcode scanner
that see repeated change
My body is a metronome
swaying side to side
While notes and chords fill
my head's inside
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC