"pareidolia" poems
Standing resplendent in a baroque topiary,
Under a florid arbour as an arched canopy,
Her pulchritude in moonlight, is the plenary
Picture of, the muse, the Goddess Calliope.
My heart’s reminiscence of our first encounter,
Like a fragrance in my mind wafts around,
Whose Pareidolia in every-thing sketches her
Face, to which it is entirely spellbound.
Were the Fates to keep us apart,
As the sculptor Pygmalion I would be.
But Aphrodite won’t breathe life into my art,
For not my Galatea, I love my Calliope.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
kids march to school,
merry, hands linked,
socks strangling calves,
backpacks swelling with milk teeth,
dangerous smiles.
in the centre they stand,
fronds shivering overhead,
buttress roots clutching earth
like they know what’s coming.
bags dropped in a ring,
offerings to something older
than the walls they study in.
fractures komorebi,
and in its faded gold
i see pareidolia,
grinning from the leaves.
the tree is temple and witness both.
the trunks sway in a rhythm
older than speech.
a tree at the border warns:
don’t take pride in the faces—
power is the thing they can’t hold.
if, my friend, you see the tree
cast out its own,
know those who give the orders
are across the ocean—
safe, distant, very clean.
owls, fat with promises,
every five years
stuff a new child’s face
into the stump’s rot
and call it a future.
the old tree votes unanimously
to shed its skin once more—
they call it progress,
call the rot reform.
loosen your roots;
the wind doesn’t care
which children
it strips for kindling.
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 7:50 AM UTC
as in clouds so in words
many things seen and read
hiding keys affirming revelations
in the unseen and unspeakable
Jul 20, 2022
Jul 20, 2022 at 10:14 PM UTC
she wanted to paint over
the marks on her face
to create a blank canvas
so their eyes would not
drill holes into her pores.
but before she could paint,
two arms wrapped around her,
slowly turning her around.
her eyes were downcast
as he kissed her every mark.
"I love your constellations.
Please don't hide them,"
he gently whispered.
she pulled him closer,
leaning back onto the counter.
the brush fell to the ground
as they savored their sweet love.
Apr 26, 2021
Apr 26, 2021 at 12:17 AM UTC
i caught
the midnight sky
winking at me
as i walked
out the front door;
its clouded lid
falling upon
that bright
but waning eye
for the briefest
of moments
it is hard
to know
if this was
a gesture
of endorsement
a translunary "attaboy"
of encouragement
to keep walking
this path
less travelled
or an accusatory
reassurance
despite
the ambivalence
that my secrets
would be kept
by this
ever-watchful
stellar companion
Aug 4, 2022
Aug 4, 2022 at 8:06 AM UTC
Yes I saw the truth in the hillside freeway
In the grilled cheese sandwich
for sale on Ebay
With tortillas and butter they called me a ******
Because I saw the truth in the eyes of another
Who decided to feed me a line of such rapture
That captured my stature of pragmatic backed banter
Gathered the trappings disbanded, I could map out the standard
Wanting the pattern, the vibrancy frequented
Masking the latency, the reader obsequious
Addressing the nuance, ignoring complacency
Significance amplified, convinced of this elevated
Power to axiom, entropy celebrated
Wax to a fault with a message converted
While the layers of encryption serve to hold this position
A raw disposition, hoping to see beyond this decision
I can't see beyond the scope of the eye with conviction.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 5:35 AM UTC
figures in the tree line
make me shiver
eyes from the treetops,
faces in the river
silhouettes of men
wallowed in the shallows
leading me to the gallows
whispers from the shadows
Apr 12, 2022
Apr 12, 2022 at 6:26 AM UTC
~
*Or migrated pod
Or fleeing refugee
Or corban
Or carbon dioxide
Or yubitsume
Or van Gogh's ear
Or black Friday
Or lazy evening at the carnival
(Tomorrow has already started)
Or free range
Or gated community
Or breast exam
Or storage crisis
Or fallen leaves
Or germ warfare
Or temporary file
Or permanent wave
Or thigh gap
Or physiognomy
Or soap made of heroes
Or multiplanetary living
(There's a floating graveyard between this world and the next)
Or logical fallacy
Or irrational number
Or elementary analysis
Or college guess
Or cardiopulmonary resuscitation
Or extrasensory perception
Or ten fingers and toes
Or a dozen eggs
(They say there's strength in numbers)
Or fifth floor, corner room
Or high as a kite
Or bellwether
Or mingled with bells
Or police sirens
Or loitering around in silent films
Or rule of thirds
Or tombs of second-hand kings
Or face in the rain
Or pareidolia
(Otherwise, at first light you might be smiling...)*
~
Nov 19, 2023
Nov 19, 2023 at 9:11 AM UTC
This pareidolia grips me
with fingers made of nothing
Clouds can’t lie, just are
and what I choose to see is mine
Whether this weather flatters or chides
is all inside, inside
Jul 18, 2021
Jul 18, 2021 at 10:24 AM UTC
We float like fair weather
clouds in a deep blue sky -
a dragon here, a sailboat
there, running together
with the wind when
the dew point transforms us
condensed or vaporized
until the universe pulls
this miracle together again
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
& perhaps
the tragedy of it all
was that reality
never seemed to be a
bother
compared to her sense of
pareidolia
if at any moment she caught
a scent of any
deeper meaning
she took to the tips of her
toes
& stalked it
until the
silence
became too great
to bear as
tried and true
fate
then down came her shoulders
down came the flood gates
fueling the catacombs
of her
nerve-endings
with any drug that was
welcoming
sleepy days
& lucid nights
misplaced whispers
& constant fright
"something must have remained"
she'll tell herself
on the seldom, solemn
cigarette days
"some piece must have stayed"
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 7:56 PM UTC
here and there
a crackle from the fire
an interruption in July's air
a forcible boom
where I wince until it lessens
but I smile, teeth persimmon orange
like those smoldering flecks of wildflower
that then fail their color, dwindle to the dirt
I picture my ivories falling out of my mouth in the same way
grey and withered
I rise, combust and fall
with these wild roman candles
like cassiopeia
I gaze in her general direction
dragged into the night by the hem of her peplum
I don't care to make out her shape
nor the throne she's tied to
by rope or by chain
her parable pressed into the scaffolding of the sky
a warning; an imposition
like sky-lit lithium
and its retinal imprint
I smile, teeth persimmon orange
turn my face
perception fails in such ways;
in these bold, bright, burning crossettes
I see figures
an arm extends
Jul 5, 2019
Jul 5, 2019 at 1:13 AM UTC
time loves slipping past
pacing feet with anxious hearts
dip me into the pareidolia
where my mind wanders
take my hand
twirl me till I see truth in front of me
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 2:31 PM UTC
Seeing shapes in the clouds
on this exquisite day,
look a horse frolicking in the hay
Now look! A witch
and that little one's starting to look like a cat,
even the top of her head looks like a pointed hat
Some say there's a connection
between mind and cloud,
unconscious patterns
externally stand proud
And on a day like today
it's hard not to believe
it's true.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 8:29 AM UTC
i feel like a dream;
like the misty memory of some
mysterious face looming
in a corner, unnoticed.
those who notice me
pass me by
for i am only a ghost,
the weak wavering
matter of someone else’s memory.
my expression twists and
lurches and tangles itself into
a heap of unknowing, and my
heart heaves some lonely
ache-
if only i could
mimic those passing faces
and become whole.
but i am just a
disjointed ghoul;
a static soul unable to
tune in, and it shows
in my reflection.
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 6:57 AM UTC
congestion of a lung-
the left one that he can live
without;
sans the pareidolia, what is
this organic machine?
maybe a
fool weakened by
failure of finding the
force in front of him.
having waited this millenium
after Archimedes,
subtraction has
become the reaper
of the living man: one who
doesn’t need his eyes to
find his feet wet from Styx.
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
She wears a crown
One foot ham-hock alley-cat bully monster
Her legs spread
She wears a crown
One high-healed furry buckled boot pump
She has two faces that both stare at you from different direction
Oh pareidolia girl who lives in the floor
Who's princess is it that's who of you adores
She wears a crown and she lays all mismatch jigsaw pieces of broken childhood, ugly leftovers, lint and trash
Of real disgust
This is just my eyes, my twist of tale, to hold my moment out of time
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 2:40 PM UTC
Do you stare a little too long or
Tease a little too much?
Do you like me?
Could you love me?
Or do you never think of me?
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
Remember that time we flew to the Moon,
Where the angels were angles and later was soon?
Where we dream of the stars,
We see light beyond time.
Cosmic corpses piled up
Visceral line after line
Lighting all we call space, firmament, and the night sky
and you can't help asking “why not?”
before asking “why?”
It's the way we are born
to receive and to grow,
but there's a little bit more
you're unlikely to know, so
join us
as I show how to move mountains,
to my child, in the snow;
Not all good things come easy,
but all we nurture, we grow.
I'll show you how to open Hell's Gate
With a shotgun at the devil's throat
before our emotions in emoticons
explode into a joke.
Sep 13, 2023
Sep 13, 2023 at 1:48 AM UTC
it doesn’t exist
it’s a creation
of a black box
called your mind
absurd insane
pareidolia of the eye
seeing factuals
hoping there is order
terrified of the nothingness
pleading for grace
from a divine
Sep 17, 2021
Sep 17, 2021 at 11:49 PM UTC