The cattail dances
Pulling its feathered shadow
Swaying unto dusk
Poems 4/27 part III: Read
Read
I stare at words
Ticks and scratches with hats and feet
Marching
My eyes dart
Laughing behind, talking,
Whispers, Phone
Ringing, I
Scream,
Tear the pages
Drown
It all out in
Muted rage.
Poems 4/27 part II
It is so easy
to get lost in the foreground
the infinite mesh of a window screen
the links of a chain fence
sometimes you look so hard things
lose their meaning, no frame
no definition, no perspective
the mind craves the epic
the open, the free and overarching
Poems 4/27 part I: Job
Job
We only wanted
What was best for him
Sometimes you need a little tough love,
Show you the error
Of your ways;
Yet he stood, stubborn
No repentance for that
Which he did not do,
Then God spoke
brought back his son Job
Denounced us.
Window Exercise 4/27
Foreground: The splash splattered sun against the hazed glass.
The screen a grid of wire, if you move close enough it dissapears.
Paint chipping, mummified insects sleeping in the eternal breeze.
The glass is streaked, layers of windows
Middle-ground: A servery worker wanders to and fro, pacing back and forth.
The grills are out and open and the cooks are joking,
There is a sad routine to it all.
Trees, and island.
Far-ground:
Mountains — a universe of ____, the rest of the world — outside the filmy shell of our bubble.