Barberous

when strings embellish time

the time for talk is over 

silence is cultivated, the means

towards heaven are coded

with erasure, life is in session

domestic, crestfallen, the audience  

writhes like worms under the tarot

when the reading turns ominous 

it is a lover’s wet eye shining 

like a disharmonious tetractys 

lodging power against our broken lips

as if we could resist, or draw the bow across 

a forgiving note, we turn away 

molto adagio to face 

the question eating us, how much 

do we gain with a hush

or lose by shouting 

over the autumn mums

resolve then, to sink quietly 

into dispassion, the conductor 

leads the way and stops 

just shy of the open gate

dVerse: Adagio for Strings

Test Prep in Triptych

 i. 

slow there, and here expand 

common strands 

run steep and wide, the strange

vocabulary very academic

like the smell of an ink pen

your finger, use it to trace 

the craftsmanship of a cube

then cup the sphere 

where you stand

strain and maintain, turn

to your neighbor and explain

the endless 

compulsion to explain

ii.

fractions are soft, a loss

without total loss

the algebraic expression

is an opportunity to set right

the brokenness in the world, to reveal 

and make known the exact question 

know this and then gaze 

into the brain of incarnation

a notion now in breathing meat

iii. 

think of what you

expected to learn

this is the how

I leave you 

to solve for why

Poetics Tuesday: To ma'am/sir

An Inebriate Staggers into a Thomas Kinkade

the plumes of smoke in frozen gentility puff from the chimney autumnal tufts of filtering trees lit yellow as if in late life sun the viewer never certain from where the light comes does it radiate from under the arched stone bridge     rendered soft with moss, an improbable fantasy for us and the drunkard to stumble upon, he knows the disappearing families pulled their thickest fabrics     over the buttery windows, he knows why he tugs at the stray threads of his damp socks he won’t stay long, they are aren’t convinced he’s only here for respite, for rest, forest and he cracks himself up like a thick layer of ancient paint, when it’s time     and god knows when, he’ll bundle his ruffles gather his mumbles within his reddish voice and flow away from the idyllic swan-poisoned waters, assured that     for a moment, he made the picture more perfect with him in it and nobody saw it

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle 773

Trending

doles out enough words

to tease the snap, to blow up

the likes, the secret men 

by the tens

scrolling by, stopping

for twelve beats

to pinch zoom the titles

of books on her night stand

they run their eyes over her 

mother’s heirloom quilt 

fashioned in times when to turn

a man’s head, all one needed 

was lace and churn

it’s what she does 

to curate imaginary 

numbers, those viral

passers by asking 

to see all of her, working

the long division

of labor illuminated 

by a ring light, she calculates 

her next move under a skin 

of their adjectives

Friday Writings #243: By the Numbers

Terrestrial

on the radio I heard a man, just a man 
declare that life right here began

with an intergalactic rock that slammed
into Earth, a soaring rock 

on which some amoeba, a stamp

of lichen, a stray cat hitched it 

until that boop of life met a drop 

of ocean and coughed 

so here we are, milking it

laboring it to the molten core  

biting down and tickling Sisyphus 

until under his rubble 

we decompose, waiting 

for our cosmic dust 

to surf a germ onto another stone

for an encore performance

dVerse: Lyric Petrologies

One More Instruction Before Visiting Earth

after James McRae 


create some form 
of expression to excite 
our sixth sense, amuse us
in a fourth dimension

we humans get nostalgic
for something new
to be nostalgic about, ditto 
with romanticism and 
melancholy, whatever

tricked out rhyme hums in your nitrogen
lay it on our carbon base, fair warning

we have a history
of crucifying guests, yet 
we starve for novel figures 
to glow in our synapses 

tell you what, just elevate 
and lead us to our mirrors

we’ll see ourselves in you, 
as we always do, I only ask that
you be a just and loving god

dVerse Open Link Night #414

How to Speak of Strength

when you stand
before a villainous statue
and a child looking up 
in awe pitches a coin

at its feet, speak 

only of the raw materials, how pure 

they must have been, imagine

 

the maker’s tilted eye, speak 

only of skill and the years 

in the studio chiseling 

at unforgiving stone to create 

such intricate medals 

how the solid ribbons 

seem to sway, marvel 

in the details 

of its heavy boots

how the proud creator

must have bristled

as he finished

in time, you will sculpt 

two hearts in the contours

of a more precious art

Friday Writings #242: Perspective