That river's first bend into the unknown, began a love of boating
for VerseLove
A place to gather words before they get lost.
That river's first bend into the unknown, began a love of boating
for VerseLove
We're strumming on the subtle strings of inscape,
the small shared cathedral tree-space, where we partake
in an escape from the humming noise, leaving grace only for
the wonderment of another Sunday morning
I, too, gather twigs - these bones of a lost winter - building nests for fire
for Algot
A pencil-top eraser removes only the surface of scribble,
leaving little nibbles of where words were
a poem built upon a poem built upon a poem
of an idea, layered like tectonic plates, just before the shift
for VerseLove
Someday I just might take up her challenge response to my complaint
to systematically count every single potato chip in the bag
to calculate the ratio of empty air space to product
to plot out the reduction of weight to cost over time
She just laughs and tosses the bag into the carriage, as we head to the checkout line
for Verselove
Harsh colors in rooms of petals, sounds of metal noise blasting, in bloom
A poem is ink you sketch upon yourself
Not tattoo, but something gone deep
Odds and ends of the observable world
Chosen memories you yearn to keep
for VerseLove
Noah, from Flush by Carl Hiaasen
I am from these Keys, these dotted islands jutting out off the toes of Florida, born kicking in the car on Highway One
I am from Paine I am from Donna I am from Bobby I am from Abbey
I am from the desire to make this world a better place
I am from mangroves, and ocean currents, from dinghies and Loggerheads
I am from following your heart to do the right thing
I am from, as my mom says, what goes around, comes around, from Karma and from Poetic Justice
for Verselove
Vela SQ2 30°N – 90°S
Your sisters of Heavenly Waters await your return for an eternity but solar winds fill your form, and you remain mystery
Your children are seven, a brood of starlings telling stories of the Argo, the cargo of which has long since been lost into myth
Your sphere of influence envelopes the empty silence; the Pencil, the Gum, the Southern Ring sings inside you
Yet still, you dance and flutter, Vela, a translucent sail in the night, reminding us of flight, a sky compass of remembering
More about Vela: https://www.constellation-guide.com/constellation-list/vela-constellation/
for VerseLove
I dreamed I went wandering again through the small park's sunken Japanese garden
mending broken flowers
but once a petal falls, it's gone, and Spring still seemed so far away, as was she
for VerseLove