Category Archives: thoughts

The Self

Often thinks about the ending.
Impoverished soul. Why so?
Brain sees itself as a walnut.
Exactly that size and that texture.
Ripe now, and dried.
if opened, you’d find
compartments still true to the model.
One or two infected with mould,
causing cross-wired circuits
and blameless mistakes (it thinks).
But the black box is still intact,
the pilot still in charge.
Holding tightly, with left arm,
the Artist.
All else matters not,
but a true imitation’s a must.

Image credit to:  http://www.drsyrasderksen.com/blog/seeing-narcissism-in-the-brain#sthash.DPwSw5vl.dpbs

 

Tenuous

I’ve started seeing faces
in the most unlikely things.
At random times and places
these thoughts, upon their wings
demand my close inspection,
their weirding eyes aglow;
their dark’ning introspection
like pee holes in the snow.

Upon my popcorn ceiling
at first, I count the stars.
Their constellations reeling-
There’s Jupiter and Mars!
But soon, they’re coalescing
The stew is boiling down
The planets effervescing
It brings to me a frown

The overture delightful
Is closed, and then a curtain
Opens on a scene that’s frightful
Disturbingly uncertain

The faces form but once again
Their gazes schizophrenic
My Google search shows one refrain-
I must be Apophenic.

Young man, old man

In February’s frozen spring
I came across a curious thing-
a solitary sapling in the sun.

It looked as if ’twere shivering,
with papered leaves a-quivering,
and the wind imparted voices to each one.

I thought its spindly arms were bare
until I heard the chattering there
and spied the little curlicues of brown.

And thought- so many made it through
the winter’s blast, the icy blue,
and held on fast to make their chittering sound

Crazy crazy

I was combing the cat’s hair
he smiled
but the hair began to come off in clumps
soon all there was was skin
and his eye fell out

I had a lemonade stand
on a deserted dusty desert road
a camel rider came by
dismounted and gave me a cactus
I gave him lemonade
and the camel too
once I had the cactus more customers came
but they all brought cactus

at night, I was driving a bumper car
in a closed courtyard
buildings all ’round
my electric pole was connected
to the thunderclouds
I couldn’t get out
so I waited for the lightning

in a waiting room
for military service
we were all shaved
the guy next to me
had very bad jitters
and I had sudden pain in the groin
he pulled out a syringe
looked me in the eye
I nodded yes
and then there was a bad smell

a thing with insect eyes
stood at a lectern
while I was chained to the tree in front of him
the eyes were judging
as it looked at its book then back to me
I hoped for its disapproval
’cause I did not want to go where it was going

under the sea I moved, with gills
fat smiling lips
and lidless eyes
I thought myself King of the coral reef
until a fella with eight arms
begged to differ.

Small things amuse small minds

The funny fridge made too much ice.
Overflowed all inside.
I dumped the cubes into the sink, filled it up.
Hosed the hot water and watched them melt.
A studied simple pleasure.

A novice at laundry, instructed by Wife.
You do this and this, don’t forget the lint.
Slide out the screen, wet the fingertips.
So smoothly and cleanly does it bunch into your hand.
Looking like grey candy floss.
Soon, I’ll have enough for a sweater.

Pleasing memory.  Dad got me a gyroscope.
The small kind that fits within your hand.
Wind a string around the axle, pull hard.
It will balance on a piece of thread.
Simple wonder and amazement.

Worked in a cigarette factory.
You lifted as many packs as possible, at once.
Stacked them on a cart as they came down the belt.
We had competitions.
You succeeded, or they were on the floor,
Shutting down the line.
We laughed.  I loved it.

Now, I sit at home.
Combing the cats, one by one.
They see me sit, they form a line.
Hogging the time, they are in nirvana.
I am amazed at the hair coming off.
It clogs and accumulates upon the comb.
With each repetition, there is more.
Why are they not bald, like me?
They purr, and they lick.
Therapy for me.
A free and easy exchange of dopamine,
For both sides.
Soon, I will have enough for a sweater.

 

In plain sight

the adolescence of a nameless bird
studied, through patio glass
nothing to eat here, my friend
one or three peremptory pecks he makes,
then sees me
why aren’t you flying away, old chum,
like birds do
I look more closely-
sure looks like the one who hit our window yesterday
and we couldn’t find him
there’s a peculiar head movement
a familiar cockeyed tilt
he bobs up and down, takes his leave
a spinal chill comes to me
I ring up Charlie’s room
Charlie passed in the night.

All in good time

Some days,

the sun seems to stare.

Like the Great Eye of Mordor.

A spotlight finding us out.

(I think, in the stupor of early dawn)

What has it seen? We wonders, yes we wonders.

“Everything under the sun”. So.

In its ever exploding light,

the very beginnings of time.

Eons. Ages. Epochs….ancestral.

Our scuttlings, squabbles, struggles, sorrows, and loves.

Who will witness its neon death?

Will they be gone before the time?

Star children of another realm.

Next stop in the infinite.

Crippled

A day, smartingly bright.
Smallish trees bend under windyness-
fishing rods tugged in unison.
Weeds party in the garish garden.
The fence, once painted traffic white,
leans into dishevelment.
Through its pickets, in time lapse,
the rarity of a skipping child.
A scooter-bound granny with a head full of stories,
and, later, the pilot of a souped-up wheelchair,
doing her death wish pirouettes in the roadway
while passers-by stop and honk.
All of these, like paintings seen through a clinging veil.
Seen by the crippled inside.
One more coffee, maybe,
to feed the prurience,
the insomnia.