05-06-2021, 06:43 AM
Situations
There is no Evil,
there are no Errors;
there is GOOD, and unfortunate events.
An apple at night,
Joy and Delight.
Matilda in the purple flowers.
Sigh for memory's a heathen that
chokes every ghost with hard evidence.
What are those, diamonds in the sky?
"Be serious." No.
Life hoards for vitality
not summer lessons.
Stores rations like dishes, not taken out
unless needed. Banks are paper towels;
men and women soldiers.
A child is a holiday within a season.
On the other side of her glasses,
she sees each day is an eclipse
where martians struggle to be felt.
But in her orbit, her glasses,
her body . . . All of it.
Reason is a painter, kept starved
with concepts. A bird is a word;
when you least expect it a son of the new neighbors shouts.
Who, but the ocean has sensibility,
waning and waxing as a pool, as air,
as a river?
Surrealism is a commercial for life.
How absurd to take a picture in the midst of it.
Memory's crucifixion.
Native violets are what we call them.—And more.
A guided tour, and the guide chirps, a monkey.
Think of times when Pan may be your guest,
all the world a lion for you to tame.
How ferocious a science, knowing and not knowing . . .
010101000
Fool and rake, venusian and satan;
ear of corn, the color yellow,
aimless clouds and walking towers.
Hardly a book, only read by you,
a woman in a field or in a yard
or in a store, on the sidewalk . . .
A sun in a sky, in a galaxy, a
universe . . .
Everything is happening.
Land and lore,
the willows and the rowans . . .
Each day marches is a fairy tale . . .
The film and the character
perpetual animation
The Ocean is a River.
There is no Evil,
there are no Errors;
there is GOOD, and unfortunate events.
An apple at night,
Joy and Delight.
Matilda in the purple flowers.
Sigh for memory's a heathen that
chokes every ghost with hard evidence.
What are those, diamonds in the sky?
"Be serious." No.
Life hoards for vitality
not summer lessons.
Stores rations like dishes, not taken out
unless needed. Banks are paper towels;
men and women soldiers.
A child is a holiday within a season.
On the other side of her glasses,
she sees each day is an eclipse
where martians struggle to be felt.
But in her orbit, her glasses,
her body . . . All of it.
Reason is a painter, kept starved
with concepts. A bird is a word;
when you least expect it a son of the new neighbors shouts.
Who, but the ocean has sensibility,
waning and waxing as a pool, as air,
as a river?
Surrealism is a commercial for life.
How absurd to take a picture in the midst of it.
Memory's crucifixion.
Native violets are what we call them.—And more.
A guided tour, and the guide chirps, a monkey.
Think of times when Pan may be your guest,
all the world a lion for you to tame.
How ferocious a science, knowing and not knowing . . .
010101000
Fool and rake, venusian and satan;
ear of corn, the color yellow,
aimless clouds and walking towers.
Hardly a book, only read by you,
a woman in a field or in a yard
or in a store, on the sidewalk . . .
A sun in a sky, in a galaxy, a
universe . . .
Everything is happening.
Land and lore,
the willows and the rowans . . .
Each day marches is a fairy tale . . .
The film and the character
perpetual animation
The Ocean is a River.