NOTES MORE THAN MEET THE EYE

                                                                               
                                                                                                 
                                                                          "Rivers have no source.
                                                    They just automatically appear at a place
                                                   where they get wider, and soon a real
                                                   river comes along…" 
                                                                       – "Myrtle", John Ashbery

             Looking over your shoulder clips the scent of panther
            paw tracks. Looking at images not a sound in your lap
            trips similar shivers ~ run pause Who's there? surveillance
            on|off screen.
                                What harm they intend gets you who cared 
            not one dot for followers ~ boom! boom! right between
            so pointless.

            Shoulders left for pads cold cry now shrug chip size, 
            you might have noticed . to be continued.

            Don't ask where faith seems skirted next; the long and
            short depends when cut foreshock comes due.
                       Generations cheat roots, grow buffering; take
            note we're running out of hem wind high with veldt
            spoor . heaven forbid plug play! cleansing pods.
                                                            And if you think night
            time googles will levy fines for grab apple saucery,
            steeups and pray, bike tube pumprider.

                                    Hey, not to worry  ̶  tarpaulin
            roofers in the desert safe place bets on a new world
            rotisserie : right left the scraps plate wipe for grunt
            walk mount startovers . fired up clicks 'n' stones, eyes
            in tooth red carnations.

            How soon we'll know? three two One ~ 
                                                                   Princes Migrants
            Lovers ~ the moon is high . incense and betel leaves
            offer : so, Places, please, and No! no shine boot loose
            step goosing . scarf herding of washed feet.

                                                                – W.W. 

 

                           

               

 

  

 

               METEOR MISSING AN EMBER

               While the fountain is still flowing, current
                     staggerings matter more than past
                        passions' pain  ̶  which this day,
                        allowed to brim, redeems.

              Yesterday's harp needs tuning but you can
                    adjust it only through today's
                       disharmonic temper,
                       today's tension of touch.

              If 'the past is a bucket of ashes',
                 sift them fast to release the gift
                   of gold in the present
                   sacred ore of the Sun.

              Whole worlds are burning down from gold ignored:
                     The Great Forgetting: justice not
                         only blind but sublime,
                         pure matching of magnets.

              The cosmicomedy's carbon: aeons
                     in a flash transformed into soot,
                        ash of archives feeding
                        the Eagle's beak ever

              tasting, so to better know, and recall :

          (from "Within The Wind"  ©  by Brian Chan)