Short Buttresses Poems

Still
beneath flying
buttresses of Notre Dame--
Polaroids shake
in their furious hands.
I wonder quietly,
tepid remorse
of stillness, mine
and its, will it illuminate
or dissolve in the light?...

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Often, I have to challenge the words, 
after they’re written

Often, I struggle to understand, 
what the Muse is trying to say 

Often, I have to cede the ground,
that buttresses my thinking

Often, the voices calling out
—are strangers to my ear

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2020)...

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I love how wè live faraway
From the noise and voices
Echoing like dominoes falling
fast and faster into the abyss
Of destruction.

I love how we live safely,
We think, as long as the world
Stays confined within electronic
Devices like caged birds, wings
Beating breezes into deluges.

I love how we live unmolested 
By the sharp edges of violence,
The softness of sun when it rises
And when it sets buttresses our fortress
Of blindness.
...

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As Hollywood
Casts its rectangular light,
A lighthouse without rotation
That warns no-one
As our ships are bashed
Against the rocks,
Sharp, jagged rocks
Of protruding buttresses
And ledges
In our fall down the shaft
To the center of the earth
To Tartarus
We silently applaud
As we enjoy,
As we are moved,
As the swell of the surf
Under our wooden ship
Washes us
With deep and deathly undercurrents
To ultimate doom
Against the rocks,
The jagged rocks,
Of this world....

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