Painting Words
(a poem on life)
The weaver and their sweating hands
faces and expressions,
meats and potatoes…!
The miners and the dirt around their faces!
It’s all life in the raw, sweat upon brows
brows, and more brows—; no answers!
Leaves have one color, but it’s everything
that counts: the sky, the grass the water,
I mix my words up like colors, for the eye
of the reader, each dote of an ‘i’ is seen
before I dote it—! It’s all life uncooked,
sweat upon brows: and no answers!
There is light and darkness in my words
…finding oneself, is finding all
the little things that make up the world.
We mustn’t let the blind lead the blind
there are too many ditches to fall into…
too many questions, unanswered!
…and so little time!
No: 2527 (12-2-2008)
The Andes Have Eyes
There dwells a pushing, almost crushing
once enclosed, encircled, by the Andes:their immenseness, takes away ones breath,
and with their sardonic eyes, they suck in
the overhead sky, near to suffocating
everything within their boundaries; likened
to cascading cells, they—dominate, all within
its presence: and if you listen closely, they ask:
“What are you doing here?” You must reply…
(it’s a waste of time to try to understand).
You need simply breathe in deeply, say to them
(staring, sardonic eyes) “I’m in your hands…!”
Written 12-17-2008 (No: 2532) “The Andes Have Eyes,” theme poem for the story
“The Loro Machaco of Villa Rica” a story that takes place in the Andes of Peru.
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