She is a perfectibilan Paula said
I laughed so hard, I hurt my head
No one is more of a perfectionist than she
Probably why she can never find an appropriate he
I am not kidding, everything in her world is precise
Her kitchen and bathroom are immaculate, which is nice
But she’s as much a perfectibilan as anyone
A stickler for exactness from sundown to sun
Our differences are like the pieces of a puzzle called life.
Are two beings of any species perfectly the same?
Could the resemblance of a thing be its exactness too?
Isn't each creature a mini-universe in itself?
Each, by way of life, seems as though caged in a common zoo.
Like lions in dominance; the camouflage of a tiger;
Restless enthusiasm of monkeys; calmness of cattle;
Like birds of the air, with aspirations to fly higher
Each moment of our daily existence is a battle.
Though, like dolphins, we care, like crabs, we pull each other's legs.
Like good craftsmen, we construct; like bad ones, we destruct
In solving puzzles, we put in the same box all our eggs.
With strangers the keys to our own homes, we gladly entrust
From birth until the end of life, this puzzle continues.
In peacefully passing through this puzzle lies life's perfect muse.
when am I in a raging sea
when am I in a towerless keep
you see the armies flanked around him
labelled with exactness
when am I on a mountain ledge
when am I on a broadsheet
a dozen more of liberty
a number for the free
when am I by solitude
when am I by genocide
walking through my lonely streets
I ask
when am I by me
We may wonder if the painter sensed
that perfect revealing, that apogee,
and how it was understood
that all else,
anything now added,
would be a superfluous footnote.
When that exactness,
that 'just rightness'
arrives out of nowhere,
then
description and explanation
must stand just as needless prattle.
When the ineffable happens
it is time
to throw the brush away.
evil elise either emitted or emoted expansive everyday E’s
elroy elephant embodies extemporaneous entrails with ease
ellie eggplant embroideries endometriosis, exacting it to its knees
emma emissary’s elderly eels expect eyes to show off their ESPs.
etta elegance extravaganza excites earthworms, electrician’s tease.
edward expectations entices earaches edging out evergreen trees.
elise, edwina and eloise eagerly expect estimated exactness in sprees.
evil elise either emitted or emoted expansive everyday E’s.
The male of the black widow spider species
offers its head to be eaten
by the lager female arachnid.
Is this sex, love, or blind instinct?
We need a different mind-set
a new understanding.
Some say Nature is perfect,
some consider it flawed, brutal,
red in paw and claw.
Only a bad dream could be this horrific,
only a good dream is aware that it is dreaming.
The exactness of the spider web
could only be the work of an impeccable design,
an image of a reality proffered up
not to confound, but to awaken,
the male and female spider seem to know this,
all be it instinctual, yet naturally beneficial
to these unquestioning creatures.
We should all pay attention,
for a dream within a dream is still a dream.
New*
forms-
with old
rhythms in
a precise image.**
*hiku-tanka-American cinquain/cinqku/crystalline-lanterne-
** NOTABLY direct - few ( if any)adjectives -semantic exactness
For years our family has tried to make candied apples.
Most of our valiant attempts have ended up as a disaster.
Mine were always the worst, or the funniest.
Depending on the way you look at things.
I usually choose funny.
My daughter should have been an engineer.
She is all about precision and exactness.
She can create a candied apple that deserves its own billboard.
My husband and I marvel at this ability.
Neither of us fathom where she inherited such a gene.
She must be a throwback.
When you step back from the painting
and an exactness appears
being just as it is
inexplicable
then add nothing
or the soul of the image will be lost.
The ghost in the canvas
has revealed the ghost in your mind.
It has come through to be
an exceptionality.
When that happens
throw the brush away.
Is boundless the supreme law?
Are bounds the everlasting flaws?
Zero and infinity give notion of incompleteness.
Both exhibit the character of Limitlessness.
Both question the idea of closeness.
Who said zero means nothing?
Does infinity imply everything?
Why both question the idea of exactness?
Yes, they are consistent with nature.
Zero and infinity have selfpoised dignity,
Since long attracts both science and Spirituality.
Zero and infinity question the sequence of events.
Still are mysterious like hell and heaven.
Will the mysteries see a unlock?
Or will find a tragic deadlock,
Will they lose their glory?
Or else remain unsolved in Nature's diary.
It fell upon
My neighbor’s house
Not mine.
I was dry the sky was soaking
Looking where the rain was falling
A sheet – no a wall of wet and
Me outside of it.
How?
How and why this demarcation,
This sharp exactness?
I put my hand - my left hand
Into the falling rain.
It did not get wet
Yet
The downpour grew stronger
Fell heaver and longer
And I still dry
Watching the falling curtain,
Uncertain
How this could be
Happening?
I called to my dog
To come outside
To look to see.
She looked and stopped
Wagging its tail.
Then thunder clapped its ears,
She ran inside under the
coffee table.
Thunder stuck me also
The rain had fallen upon us
A great ocean of it
Just on us.
Has this happened before?
I had to wonder a lot.
Back indoors
Both damp and drying
I think I overheard God laughing.
Right
Correct, Genuine
Impelling, Motivating, Affecting
Preciseness, Exactness, Absoluteness, Properness
Violating, Maligning, Defrauding
Amiss, Improper
Wrong
No one has time to do anything tonight but work.
We are concentrating on the exactness of each movement.
Meticulously recreating the night sky, a united effort
No one wasting time to speak, whisper, all hands on deck.
The universe is counting on us patriots, so we work together.
Silently, stealthily, putting our differences aside for this night.
I wonder about me sometimes.
Elusive yet full of potential.
The very essence of life as we know it.
We could be an ocean if we wanted,
Yet enjoy our individuality down to the last
drop of water.
Always living by "It is what is"
but never test our resolve
for even in death we'll be loving long.
I understand him completely.
He is my reflection
and the hardest of lessons
Why I am, the way that I am.
I get it son.
We carry ourselves like we don't have time,
but relish the exactness of war's totality.
So don't instigate
our faces don't camouflage well.
Almost like polar opposites
wanting to remain untouched
because when moved
every piece in heaven
and every point on earth
will feel it.
Rushing like a flood or tranquil as a pond,
every molecule of our mind reverberates
with creativity
rippling across eternity
undulating God's will.
Now, I'm back to I don't know
With a mind that won't be still.
In his school years
he was good at naming things.
Trees, minerals, the anatomy of rabbits,
butterflies and all things
he saw or imagined he saw.
Later…much later,
He realized he knew nothing of anything
that walked the earth or grew upon it
or flew above it.
Later still, his internal organs
began to name him. Bushes and flowers
named him as he walked by.
Birds called out his various names,
his species and sub-species,
the Latin nomenclature,
the exactness of his being.
He heard all this naming
through an open window in his head
that could not stop reflecting thoughts
back to him.
As most seekers do
he sought the advice of a guru.
“Your mother did not love you
not just the way you wanted her to love you,
and so you had to name
all that she was not.
“What!’ he said,
is that your only answer!
“I could name a thousand more,”
the guru replied,
“but you have already named them,
and so they in turn named you.
Now you are caught,
pinned like a moth to a display board…
go now and un-name yourself!”
He thanked the guru,
hesitated,
then foolishly he asked the wise man -
for his name?
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