Elliptical and magical
And all the right reasons
For insults and slaying
And positive disorder.
Magnets and surprises and
Delightful little nooks
To call where I stand
My own, and leave whispers
Anonymously sprinkled about
Like two cans of spray paint,
Like a schoolmaster’s lisp,
Like the memory of a highschool
Should-have-been
Late night in bed,
Struggling to calm the mind
Of all things ticking,
Only to wake – in what
Seems like minutes –
To resume collecting again.
Category: bubblegum
Honest Greenthumb-Man (day 1230)
I grow my tulips in large wooden buckets
Pansies are higher, in small clay potters
Resting precariously upon railings and windowsills
Then here we have hanging from awnings and perches
Creative little baskets filled up within:
Snap dragons, petunias, geraniums, lobelia
All overflowing with blossoms of life
Watering is fun for you know when it’s done
By the stream of water flowing out the base
Now off to the side of this here green kept lawn
Is a boxed off topsoil-rich haven of growth
Strictly for vegetables and strong smelling herbs
Which will feed me this summer
Well, most of the summer, after they’ve ripened
After they’ve grown high and wide
Some of them root plants, digging into earth
I’ve built up on rows to give them wide birth
Others are leafy greens with big flapping wings
Reaching out high for the hot summer sun
One row I planted with mixed lettuce fantasia
Its colours range wide, from green, purple, yellow
Well, that is my garden, my flowers and vegetables
It isn’t that big, and it’s grown a little wild
But it makes an honest greenthumb-man out of me.
Early Evening Nap (day 1225)
Wrinkled covers
Darkened room
Stretching cobwebs
The Village Park View (day 1222)
Buildings look bigger when I’m not moving.
When I can sit and stare and observe
How ominous they behave
Sitting there, beyond.
I understand how they get there;
Months of toiling and clanging and
Larger than life machinery hoisting up
More than just imaginations.
I understand they fulfill some eager desires
And transplant thousands of civilians
Into one common – or at least proxy’d – goal.
But I still sit and wonder as they tower in the vista,
Waving at me motionless with wires and reflections.
I try to count the windows and cubbies and features
That line the facade, but my eyes have become
Weak with vastness.
It’s amazing to see the intricacies,
How erecting smaller things
Like a shelf or a picture frame
Can flummox the wisest of scholars.
Complexity of alignment,
How marvelous these structures.
When I wave my goodbyes they smile back.
They all let me know how nice it’s been to
Share these moments together.
Green and Busy (day 1218)
Little kids are all dressed in green.
They’re wearing foreign flags and
Scrambling about in some kind of
Scatterbug formation.
It makes me think of the years I spent in ‘Nam
– And incidentally a delicious restaurant
Round the corner from here.
Chopsticks between eyes and arrows
And fabrics that tell me not to bring these new habits home.
I’m watching them with curiosity
As they make their way about the grounds
Busier than all the ants of the world.
Hands flailing in some random forms of symmetry
That builds to eruptic culminations.
And then I get busy and pants with arrows pointing South
Cross my paths leaving home-job manicured
French poodles pissing about,
Confusing the tiny combat warriors.
Good Morning (day 1216)
It is beautiful,
In a novel kind of way,
The way
You wake me in the morning.
There’s a ring to “Goodmorning”
That I’ve never heard before,
But explains the term
With more than just vowels
And confused syllables.
Moon Mind (day 1211)
It’s easy to forget
– Early in the morning –
That once I never knew you.
Trying to remember;
Days I’ve left behind.
And your moon shakes my mind.
Distracted (day 1199)
I ran into a solid wall
Ten feet by ten feet wide.
It wasn’t for any science test,
Nor for a high paying bet.
It wasn’t for a parkour feat,
Misunderstanding or drunken stupor.
No, I had my eyes diverted,
Turned, distracted.
For there she walked.
Medium Roast Pour Over (day 1194)
I am yet awake,
I have not yet groaned
My spider scaring roar
That echoes through these walls
And the cobwebbed corners of my mind.
But when I do,
When I finally wiggle my toes
And touch the cool cool floor
Of this autumn day morning,
I will smell the embracing aroma
Of my medium roast pour over.
Moving (day 1192)
Vacant lines
Evacuated cobwebs
Forgotten keepsakes