Sunday, February 27, 2011

Pericopae: Juxtaposition

Paper flowers created by the bride decorated the wedding hall & party.

Tell me, I say:
I want to know

how is it that today
laughter from small children
gamine, rosy and precocious
lights up the night
more brightly than
the lighted ferries
appearing in the dark
like gliding specters
of entire buildings
sprung up from the deep
in darkness and surprise
suggesting a world
beneath this world
of mermaids
porpoises and trident kings

West Coast Story

this is a night
of new beginnings
a union of two souls
lifted out of despair
making promises bold
with renewal and hope
joining two families
through two souls
giving selves and all
punctuated by
flowers shaped by art
words shaped
by the grime of the road
experience and romance
words and flowers
the power of
the brush and pen
the marriage of
writer and artist

East Coast Story

while across the land
a vast continent
containing lives and loves
stories beyond counting
an artist
who conjures lifescapes
out of cyber floss
and whimsy
and a healer
who heals all who come
no expectation of payment
no fanfare
stare into the night
of final slumber
noticing the pores
in the cement
of second chances
playing cards
for one more chance
to beat the odds
yet finally
overcome by life's river
flowing by too fast
flowing by unaided

Mother's Story

a mother heaves
and weeps
anticipating the loss
of one more beloved
of the illness of yet another
numbering her losses
on all her fingers
and toes
there is nothing else
left to lose
nothing else precious
that hasn't been taken
severe and sear
like the scar across the land
left by mountaintop mining
like the blackness
of a scorched earth policy
betrayed by the bodies
she birthed decades ago
the enemy is cells
growing uncontrolled
the enemy is cancer
rend now the tents
they shelter no more
retreat into the desert


the enemy is
loss of hope
the enemy is
it's life
and all its tributaries
like spilled milk
spreading across
the ground
the enemy is
to be riven
the enemy
is life
a circle
of starts
and stops
the enemy
is our hearts
the enemy
doesn't matter


The answer is:
Only love
and its calamities
in the end
save our sanity
in the end
reap our history
in the end

Portrait of the cyber artist by VitaminCeCe

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