trees are ridiculously difficult to draw
the one in front of me is a bipolar walnut
her limbs go up, down, over, under, around
they are gnarly and crude but also straight
she is a skeleton of herself in October
tens of thousands of her leaves are missing
I marvel at her haphazardness
her remaining leaves seem to mock me
bet you cannot draw us either, they say
they are not wrong
4-17- Silence
Psychedelic bubbles
in my cooling hot chocolate
The frothy surface like the
life giving neoprenic sludge
(hypothetical scientific origin)
Bubble’s spectrum slightly amiss
from rainbow hues
and universal in its colorful rotation
Observed, enthralled
for an unknown amount
but my worst fears arrived
in time only necessary motion
Alas there was no big-bang
Art?
Perhaps too post modernistic
to sell out an auditorium
but such latent haphazardness
was used on the
black and white
paint spattered
silver chair shadowed
by approaching set
and the anticipatory ants
who watched my mountainous meal
crumble
(dare I to defend what’s left)
No, for I can appreciate
the natural nature
of artistic corrosive disorder
.
As a judge in a poetry contest
elimination,
Look carefully before jumping
into a conclusion.
Printed words may look like black
ants in batallion formation
Or squads of stunned stragglers
crawling out without direction.
Oftentimes they appear as chunks
or slices of random thoughts
Strewn haphazardly on the pages
like burnt wings of moths.
In them you may not see creative
spark or inspiration,
But behind haphazardness may be
imagination!
.
Look again and again before you jump
into a conclusion
if you're a judge in a poetry contest
elimination.
Printed words may look like black ants in tight
batallion formation
or squads of stragglers crawling about
in uncertain direction.
Sentences, oftentimes, are chunks or splinters of raw,
random thoughts,
so haphazardly strewn on the pages like brown,
burnt wings of moths.
They may not have creative sparks, rhythmic pace
or inspiration,
but behind haphazardness itself may be
imagination!
If you're a judge in a poetry contest
elimination,
look again and again before you jump
into a conclusion;
Printed words may look like black ants
in batallion formation
or squads of stragglers crawling out
with uncertain direction;
Oftentimes they're chunks, slices and splinters
of random thoughts
haphazardly strewn on the pages like black,
burnt wings of moths;
They may not have creative sparks, rhythmic pace
or inspiration,
but behind haphazardness itself may be
imagination.