like ailing children
convalescing in mom's arms
oak trees heal orchids
***Someone gave me a throw away plant with only one leaf left. So I blessed it and put it up in an oak. This is the result! I had to make some art out of it too. :)
Silence has a
tremor to it
a tremble like
a quiet cold. I
wish I could move
fast like that
all the time or
make myself
gigantic with
massive
goosebumps.
But super speed or
growth are for
cool kids and I
get a preview while
freezing in the quiet,
cupped hand, ear.
The art of persuasion
in a world of infinite
is that the ant can
always shove the
rubble down the hill
and blame the gravity
of the situation.
And Sisyphus will
never see the ant’s
mandibular snicker
as he WTFs. But he
knows the agent of
his distress
Just show up every day. Not to hold humanity in contempt. Trust me, humanity already knows its flaws and chooses to ignore. Just show up to create. Consistency is the diatribe against the night. It is the canyon where a river once flowed.
Fanning pages
made a breeze,
a butterfly in 1369
chrysalis-emerged,
and I exhaled. Their
overlap vertex
was chosen
as a site for no
thing, and is
considered one
of the lesser known
anomalies. It’s
documented
here for
posterity.
you multiply me
from almost gone to human
some softer magic
hidden in the words you shape
or the fact of you
crouched between light and darkness
afraid of nothing
save anything for yourself
sunlight edges you
begging your elements home
do we smile, perhaps
touch, unsure whether to fear
we're unreal or real
silent, we become, an end
a beginning, more than us
face my enemy
fingers stained with metal stink
and quick transferred muck
from pockets hands and purses
through each of thousands
of transactions difficult
as the month's last spend -
choose food or heat - or light as
whim-bought shop coffee
to use up jingling shrapnel
rather than carry
it home - no wonder monarchs
(engraved foe faces)
don't carry the stuff - the weight
of memories would end them