The dividing line
Between shadow and I
Lies between the twain
Set upon a mirrored surface
That itself does contain
Some differences
In reflective
Surfaces.
Some sort of pulling circumference.
Those uncertain waters.
An unscheduled gathering of intelligence.
Pushing the boundaries on the map.
Allowing more give than get.
Allowing give and get to become
Indecipherable over time.
Allowing the allowing.
Over the intercom:
"To hell with all human
Judgement,
Insecurity,
and
Intolerance!"
Brigade the Brigadeers.
Love all children like their yours.
Love all mankind like their yours.
Peace out to all my homies.
they asked if I believed in the afterlife
I told them the jury was still out on the before life.
My husband and I
now own an adjustable bed.
It lifts about 90 degrees at the head
and 40 degrees at the foot.
An incredible invention except that
my husband likes it low, and I do not.
Our compromise isn’t to my liking!
Our mattress is California King -
72 inches wide and 84 inches long.
It provides roomy comfort for us and our pets,
yet without fail, my spouse
ends up sleeping on my side of the bed
facing me in the fetal position.
Opposites always, I sleep on my right side
and he sleeps on his left.
The cat, when it is there at all,
sleeps often at my feet.
Unequal is our bed’s positional balance
as I lie sometimes precariously on the edge
wishing for a separate bed – a queen size fit for me.
A line divides the bed they share
a line, invisible, but there.
Between the North, South East, or West
who knows which side now offers rest?
Post-angered words it widens so
a space where unspent feelings flow
and neither dares encroach this place
with cautious touch or first embrace.
The line did not exist at first
when then their tangled limbs traversed
the bed at any angle known;
no part of it they claimed to own.
Now he lies left, and she lies right
the border crossed by some invite;
and neither knows the reason why
some nights allow, and some deny.
A line divides the bed they share
a line, invisible, but there.
Together at twilight,
Separated at dawn,
Two intertwined hearts,
Two souls lost in silence.
A bed embraces two at twilight,
As they journey into the unknown and unseen.
They arrive at dawn,
Sometimes before the first light,
Other times with the rising sun.
This bed accommodates individuals with differing dispositions;
Its size reflects their choice.
Their togetherness signifies a unity of purpose,
A testament to the strength of their bond.
Yet, a shared bed does not guarantee shared love,
As they wander through a wilting meadow.
What once glowed now casts a shadow,
A shared bed becomes a symphony of gloom.
The geometry of a shared bed does not nurture the garden of the heart.
dot
line
letters
lean and lift,
shaping quiet space~
angles of thought unfurl slowly,
each phrase unfolding into geometry of breath
Our King is rectangle
And yet I still dangle,
While my hubby plays dead
Far and wide on our bed.
And the blanky, alright,
I lose touch with at night.
My hubby by my side
On the bed, far and wide.
It’s neither fair nor square -
Love triangle we share:
Asymmetrically,
Geometrically.
Since my hubby, all spread
Far and wide on our bed,
I moved in with chagrin
To the bedroom with Twin.
Now I sprawl and I spread
On my bountiful bed!
Slumbering, far and wide,
Taking turns on each side!
Twin’s not much of a prize,
It’s not all about size!
It could be even worse -
Could be Single of course!
May 16, 2026
Patient planets on their wheels revolve
they answer not for the treachery of their tides
But we’re made guilty of our own disasters
and we’ll hang by our own lazy geometry.
Our very own hapless crookedness
is reason enough for our bankruptcy
Oh, we may pretend and invent kinder tales
but in quiet rooms, in privacy, let us confess
that we, ourselves, are the choking strychnine,
and the muscles controlling the bone-white hand
if we all become handsome skeletons
who lack marked grave stones
let’s call it karma.
.
.
A song for this
I Remember the Sun by XTC
Invisible Sun by The Police
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At first, it was the way your hands
fit into mine—like puzzle pieces
turned to dust in the rain.
Then came the silence,
not the loud, shattering kind,
but the quiet erosion of a shared language.
We became two shadows
circling the same streetlight,
each pretending not to see the other’s shape
stretching in the opposite direction.
Somewhere between the last kiss
and the first unanswered letter,
we learned the arithmetic of absence~
how subtraction can be a kind of mercy.
Now, the distance between us
is no longer a wound but a suture,
closing what was never meant
to stay open.
At times, the wind carries your name~
I let it go, not because I've forgotten,
but because recalling you
is not the same as holding on.
IN THE GEOMETRY OF IT ALL
Indeed, there’s never ever an
Easy walk towards freedom.
Thus, we must ever seek,
With divine hope and
Faith, the right angle,
Triangle, and circle
Of oneness, in our
Maze journey in
The hexagon of
This lived life
Of the math
Of this old
World:-
delightful descent
fleeting forms floating falling
~snowflake silhouettes
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
midnight blues bled into dawn pinks
beneath her needle's patient rhythm.
scraps of my outgrown dresses,
Grandad's flannel shirt, threadbare at the elbows –
resurrected geometry.
her hands traced constellations
of mismatched calico and gingham.
thimble’s silver moon rose and fell
binding frayed edges
into something whole,
something warm against the dark.
Now, her hands rest
but what remains is a
cedar chest in which
her life’s work
is contained.
What I Became
In school I liked:
physical geography, American History
and biology.
I hated:
chemistry, physics
and geometry.
So, I became a pharmacist
Where beauty nests in routine,
Where passion and order dance as equals,
Where every small choice
Creates the geometry of a life well-lived.
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