Anachron Eight to Three

Twirl
Tug
Twist
Vortex
Nah! Just school.

It is not an air
The thoughts
Practiced and pulled to hold
Water
Time
Attention.

It is class.

Fast crevasse defining understanding
Tentacles crossing comprehension
Sounding the symphony of massed voilas.

It is education.

Seeds leaking home through nights, days, years
Suddenly growing daily food.

It is learning.

The Point is WHAT'S

The last few posts have pointed to the author/reader interface. The one that is occurring in your mind now...or rests calmly on the page. Hmm, well I control what goes onto the page (and I do it with some intent). You "control" what is happening in you mind as you read. I may pick and prod at your mind, but I have no ultimate control over the effect of writing like these poems.

This is one of the things that fascinates me about writing poetry. There is a certain amount of satisfaction in the expression/writing. There is another satisfaction in hearing the effects...no I do not judge your impressions against my intent. The poems become semi-independent objects--word sculptures in the garden attracting gazes...and dogs.

Part Two

Sweet Smell Lingers

What did you see, where?

Projection/Injection

A Red Rose







How many are there?

Descarte Before the Hoarse

Trees
Vertical victims of posts
A barer of commune I que from whispers beside paths.
Now freed by frozen pixels from burden bidden barks,
A phantom poet pirouette.

Syllabic slivers from these flayers of surface hanging now in space
Observations little changed from dust,
Mostly concealing,
Little revealing of surface,
Non-royal outsides blanketed with insight blind binding to the points.

They rise in puppets of manual pullation.
“I think therefore you are…”
Illusion of control from the process of authoring,
Sharing, shattering, shimmering, cymballisims
Before and passed your eyes.

Understanding feints
Meaning swells
The dance entertains.
Who wrote that you or eye?

Taste of Mind

Whiteness rise
Vanescent touch across compassing points
From the persistent page the scream of consciousness
Pitches past thought.
A wearness put on
Spin/span the gap, person to allusion
Fades within the midst if time snaps shot
Memoree, memorah, membo jumble furl.
Substance stance happens and happens stands.

Traffic Jelly

Blaring webs weaving still
Skeins of purpose vehicle past time unconcious
Wrinkled awareness hoods each one as they stretch from A to B,
Motion is misshapen as progress--repeating is the main strength.


What do you carry, racing uphill in the sandy glass?
Is it used weapons...a broken glare from the other lane...
a brake bent path skid mark of the mind...or tossed gestures smearing down the wall?


The holding on rips energy, yet pretense mocks natural.
Listen carefully, the one with the peanut butter wins.

Standing Anomo...lay

And if it looks like a mirror
Densely surrounding a stick writing on water
Revealing...or resisting
Shapes that transcend their place to touch your eye
A touch that minishes into the dim waft of time.

Words attend the march of grammar
Deciding if it is Georgia crumbs or bell tone tolls
Swing left down brush right in a lap of inconvenience
The event and description toil rolling
Yet remaining the only faint cry across the cracks in the joke.

Texture is Secondairy

Posts may continue in order
in a nice s(c)erial way.

Building blocks or mental blocks
the helpful exercise of push up...off
leaves one or two to contemplate understanding.

While we are there
checking the transmission and changing the oil
help the long term discourse.

Moving in another vain
--mirror imagination--
sweep the shards of jello from my chin.

I do hope everyone had a good lunch.

Beginning...the big Dang theory

A small dot unnoticed in the blemished rush of time
a small concept unfolding, lapping over
edginess...seeming limits, pseudo definitions, ummm finite.

And mighty fine, a night exploding under the content concept
a shelter of the mind writ large larger on the screen
Awed by the size of shadow
blinded by any effective light.

mumble, hmmpfh there is nothing there

no meaning, you say?

just try to keep it from escaping.