Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Fire



Burning…does that spark any distinct memory as in location, stimuli, an inkling? Burning, as in unstable state, seethe with what it means to turn matter into smoky air, burnt bridges but cremation and incarnation of time and place, thermomagnetic transportation perhaps it was never there in the ashes or stars carried away in heat waves. A ray of sun then magnetized on top of the red dirt, bark dances low and white in motes on the trail before me, nymphs and fireflies and feel always lead to castles and sweet escape of now, smolder and embering to meet me another way. 


Painting by Philippe de Champaigne (c.1645-1650) in  [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Water-Aqua Vita



As if we could withstand the curiosity, in fact, this is how it all began, not with fire as men may say. This terraqueous planet describes us, shapes us, prepares our moods, reflects feelings in water with rainy days, and on hot days it seethes to the surface. A love-hate. The odorless, tasteless, colorless, rainbow making substance making up most of what we see, including our own body, its secrets hidden behind surfaces sometimes called skins and in reflections that can be blinding. Tears may escape this wrath, you salivate, you sweat, there are many ways out, but we all know thirst in a more intimate way. Why does the river run or meander? Where is it going so unstoppably. The sea, you say. Yes. I guess these tides too taunt sameness, require membership, seeks its own kind, mutual matters. The tides taunt us relentlessly, love-hate, push-pull-sun-moon, always churn so you know it is breathing, there is life in there, resistance and persistence. Trapped as we may be in our bodies that need, trapped like ants on our hills and screaming about wills that fall on deaf ears, we still climb, we crawl, claiming to know where we are going on our islands by push-pull-time of day-we know ice when we see it, we see cold water steam, hot water vapors, and boil and evaporate and condense and it all boils down to the one scientific question-whose is it, not Prometheus, not ours to steal, it was all part of it, it needed the other matters to matter the most. Water is life always returning to become part of another body, just like we, genetically.




By Moran, Thomas, 1837-1926 (artist); L. Prang & Co. (publisher) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Earth-ling


Pleasant, soothing at it sounds seemingly to some, Mother Earth may be a callous symbol to Others.
For arguments sake, if this Mother is no longer responsible for her children-
Then why do we need to claim
Heritage, Hierarchy, Habituation, Home
By relation-dirt don't hurt no
Ship of Fools
as if entitlement and document were worth trading or grinding down.
Apes with tools erected schools of thought, others say Respect your Elders even if given shorter straws.
Piles and miles we move dirt as if we made it matter more, who is keeping score, who cares who matters
Who dares to entertain the road, let the line lay and bears all the load, but no resemblance-to us,
She is the soul maker of Beauty. 


Painting by Herbert James Draper [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Air


Noble Highness, Princess Ayre,
I see you up there-everywhere I stare down the atoms,
                                                 showing off your prowess with your plumage.
Spreading the skies with talon,
                                                  a parting breeze-Please-you dance as if the world
were watching,                                                your silhouette in spritely gambols.
without a word
Still as Summers Eve,
Avian apparatus                                       demonstrating what stirring is
and how                we should                    exhale in murmurations
                             after swallowing  

the heavens whole-                                and absolve the tears from rain.
Following your advice to Look up I have been mistaken for preying again and again.     




Artwork by Nicolaes Piemont [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.