Poem-A-Day #171 : August

August

Summer has settled into that soft green that is not quite ready to be tired but is definitely at the peak of itself

The idea of troubling the water keeps coming that the water can be troubled to be a force for healing that healing is something that one must be forced to do

Summer is sadder than winter each plant is going going going like it has no recourse and they will never get to their finish before being wiped out by the end of it it's sinister that the light and water of it is just enabling destruction

This is a negative view of abundance and it is probably toxic and related to mood more than truth

Healing is the thing the growing season is not a time of healing it is too active and energy-consuming to be healing you need dormancy to heal

We need to hibernate ourselves here and now take some pill or be beaten about the head

The breeze this morning is moving the trees like curtains about to part and the effect is one of prelude one of soon to change one of this has been and will be again but first it must not be

Every poet is wrong about the seasons is backwards is blinded by the glint of sweat on a lip

Poem-A-Day #170 : Becoming Full

Becoming Full

                    - here are the rules
for becoming full :

          1)       break your history and find the buttonhole
                         where the ashes
                              can be pressed into service -

there are tools for that - maybe
you could put them in a 3D printer with some resin
and then print out a button
it would be the color of slate

                    you'll need to find a shirt without
          but that's not too hard - you could tear one off
of the shirt you have on


          2)        after you've been erased
                          there will be a desire to immediately fill
                               resist

         3)         let the rain fall on you until you are purple
                          cold breaking like a land-locked lake crashing
                               on the crushed quartz shore

you're going to want to be summer
be winter
be a glacier's patience