Howl the Day Awake

Yellow dogs howling for a promise:

One day, one week; retract-less

Aimless, senseless, voiceless …

As silence is inherent to concession

And choosing blindness to conviction

Breeds creeds of intolerance.

Listen, in the distant the white wolf

Howls the day alive to find endurance.

A Union in State

The auspicious chamber room in the union semi-round

where root the dreams that freemasons found

in the ethereal modes and ideals of a higher nature;

in the material codes of an empire’s rapture.

Such as in a colony of emperor penguins grousing

about over each of their precious eggs; sounding

calls and braying out for relief and adherence

while waiting birth of their seed inherence.

Storm's Call

Hurry! Hurry, gather all in that may perish

The horizon’s long line darkens in anguish

As the blackening sky consumes all the light

And heaven’s drums call for all to take flight

Collect all lines and arcs at the summit’s mount

Before the impending rage takes full account

Of the gardener’s love and work that is assayable

Leaving behind dearth and destruction that is ineffable.

Up and Down the Night Street

Happiness is as uncertain as doubt

and however full or stout

Laughter may be

It can flee

When enters woe

With its wry blow

Staying all the night

And day until ends the fight.

Restless

Sleep held to frail thoughts frays

And grips the mind in heavy weigh

Until dawn breaks the night curtain

And the gentle light wakes the uncertain

Dream’s frights to wane and dissipate

Under the sun’s warming state

As the sun flowers turn to face

Once again - time is a restless grace.

Homogeneous

When constants and variables agree

That the differences are none,

However odd that notion may be,

The moment when light, deemed as one,

Overwhelms the flower’s space

Consuming all color from its face

Then a singular essence

Releases all character and presence.

Impressionism

Is light an impression that darkness

Has of the infinite held to a finite harness;

Is life an impression that death

Controls the limited time of breath;

Is an artist’s impression in creation

The start and end of classicism’s ruination;

Is not stark reality merely an impression

That once lived in a winsome obsession.

 

Running Wild

Fences and gates do keep;

Collars and chains will hold

Those meek following sheep

However harnesses will never control

Those that prefer running wild.

Watch for the wall keepers my child

For they understand only locks with keys

And docile things that turn contentedly mild;

Silently deferring or purring to appease.

Alas, my peculiar one, only the free, insane or desperate will leap.

Azul - for poetics in and out of form

Time is fluid and so we are...