746.
Domesticated
Nature, we imagined farmers
Using a manual
747.
Two thousand years old,
Surgeons too, even lawyers.
The sky remains blue.
746.
Domesticated
Nature, we imagined farmers
Using a manual
747.
Two thousand years old,
Surgeons too, even lawyers.
The sky remains blue.
629.
All those car owners
Driving by, I did not know,
Before they too died.
My art is fuel for my self,
It’s all about survival;
Watering plants in a drought,
Mundanity’s suddenly vital.
I wanted a different existence,
To find my higher rival;
Meanwhile art is all I’ve got
Before touching down on arrival.
Later, above that lofty shelf
Too late the dim apostasy!
Knowing I was safer below,
O art, protect my soul from me.
When a unicorn falls from the wall
Then we are all in trouble;
Until that day I’ll paint my bed,
And write beneath the rubble.
291.
Thoughts like pearl raindrops,
Fall the red rhyming couplets;
This imperfect one.
289.
As the word homage
Is as a sister to pay,
I reflect on you.
71.
The water carries its bare stories,
Blocked by a dam
Above a lake without words.
72.
Black necks of Canada Geese jab
In the mulch of November’s leftovers.
Warning signs abound.
73.
The book is my gun
And I am on the run,
A fugitive from knowledge.