The Final Lie

Numbers have a lasting smell

while figures have a taste

Shapes can make an ancient sound

whose feelings stay untraced     

 

Intuition grants a wish

to those who rebegin 

Dimension in the blackest hole

new dwarf stars from within

 

Counting up or counting down

deception stays the same

What you gain or what you lose

redundant in the game

 

Endings come and endings go

ephemerally despised

Until the sacrificial lamb

—bleats out the final lie

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2023)

 

 

 

 

Motion Transformed

Memory has substance

for those athirst

a book never finished

whose pages reverse

 

Minute by minute

the moments burn

Igniting our history

whose ashes return

 

Memory’s sensation

beyond the five

Assuring our consciousness

we’re still alive

 

Formed in a vacuum

of fire and light

Stealing us inward

past seasons respite

 

Memory delivers

what stimulus feigns

A cloud in the desert

showering rain

 

Wrapping us tightly

in motion transformed

Buried within us

—keeping us warm

 

(Dreamsleep: January, 2023)

 

 

Hidden In Plain Sight

Music has a special taste

feelings lost in sound

Touching heard across the room

vision by the pound

 

References left unto themselves

choir boys in tune

Trading what they never had

tribute to the loon

 

One last chance to make the grade

masks come flying off

Darwin leaving Born in chains

climbing through the moss

 

Menageries have come and gone

kaleidoscopes diffused

Nomenclature chameleons

—confounded and bemused

 

(The New Room: January, 2023)