PAINTED POETRY

FALL

into cover to recover
understanding the necessity of rest
but the active space of growth.
the grounds enflame with crackling tones of earth
and the rake screeches order.

insist on collection
knowing the imminent plateau.

there is no reason the fall --
of man; from grace --
would be unretributable.
apples grow all year
and the colder the frost; the sweeter the crisp


SUMMER

nothing else comes but the quenching of afternoon shower
the sky suddenly surrounded with wrung-grey cloud
the pavement streamed and puddles glimmering prism fuel

there is no reason to relocate the world of imagination
the water simply enhances the game
and the storm-wrecked pirates wave to the shore
with the rest of the flotsam
the tropical island jungle boasts luminous creatures
and hard shelled fruits

ice snaps as tea slides into crystal tumblers
and chairs rock, elongating scarves drawing to the veranda's wooden floor boards
there is a hum of music to this life


DISSOLVE

what is there can be so easily lost
needing a scent of balanced seeing --
for engraving but avoiding reliance.
everything will become yours
recorded in chemical compound
(with a popping sound)
and the choice becomes yours
to color the sound in light whiteness
(or say, beige and blue)"
or glum heaviness that has no color
but acidic callous
let it move


TWENTY SEVEN HOURS, NINE MINUTES, AND FORTY THREE SECONDS

i wrote of dawn
in a spring garden
in front of growing brussel sprouts
or was it cabbage?
but what of the dusk
the active transition into reds and purples
and yawning

when it is acceptable to waltz
into the worlds of thinned blood streams
and activated receptors
and sigh and bat
and forget the rigidity of the day?

oh, the gateway


BE-ING

tell me again that it is as it is
so i stop worrying that it isnt as it isnt
and perhaps for a moment
we will be together


SPIRALS INTO ORANGE

for everything, a season
for every being, another
for every rain, a bow
for every seeker, bliss to discover

numbers count in sequence
with hidden infinity between them
colors separate that which they do not possess
boundaries of oblivion

it doesnt end
this experience with no spectrum
it will always, simply, be
ad infinitum