Stack vertebrae, extend
one arm, an impressive Monument,
Stillness, graceful–
then, the Toppling.
Ceiling Fan is still Beyond reach.

Sometimes I write and write some more
Other the paper gets crumpled and thrown to the floor
Or does it, maybe I delete the words from the screen
Before they are ever seen
then I write and write again
delete like before
It reminds me of the unstable times
How some people are trying to erase
The very history that built this place
how are we to take a stand
when what they want is for us to live in fear
So, we write and write again
we must choose to Hold on, defend the truth
Write and write again
Be the voice and defend
Do not allow them to erase history
History that we hope not to repeat again
We deserve to live with peace and love Every human on this land.
so I will write and write again
No matter how ugly the truth.
Time to take a stand, to build a plan
Freedom is for all.

feral cat
comes up to me
as i enter my building 
it
smells me
and
rubs itself against my leg
and
allows me to pet it
before it runs off
and goes behind a
wood fence
what a wonderful 
surprise 

I don’t want to fuck this up,

Run
Faster
Quicker
Smoother
Lightning

These are the words you hear

One more time
So close
Don’t give up
You got this

These are the words you hear

Nice try
Maybe next time
No
Wasted potential

These are the words you hear

Was it worth it
Time
Energy
Losing
Failure
Was it worth it

These are the words you hear

MoneyBall: using statistics to find and recruit athletes that would typically be overlooked.

What are you, what are you, who is that within?
Black and white the lines between got thin.
So the edge, to the edge now once again,
and bleed it out the same here now as then.  

Inside out upside down and out, begin.
Drink it all, damn all, burn all up in sin,
blood the eyes, ring the ears, here come the spins
which roll and prick upon the needle-pins.
Don’t stop it till you’re gone or till you win.  

What are you, what are you, who is that within?
That which begins, the same as what here ends.
It lives and dies and does it all therein,
goes to the edge, the edge falls once again,
but the borderline finds itself within.  

I had a woman sitting beside me
   with an ignorant self-esteem,
   determined to cure me,
   dying to play doctor.
                    …
The internet says no acidity,
   she backed it with her financial degree
   —sometime in 1970.
                    …
      Not with a medical chart,
      or the pokes and prods—
      not with the seven years
      for a proper diagnosis.
                    …
I have a cousin with the same thing,
   as if that thing
   wasn’t anything.
   But   I    have    Crohn’s Disease
                    …
      where my intestines bleed
      [I’ve tried…believe me…]
      I ate your so-called cure salad.
                    …
Yet, everyone wants a say,
   be the expert of the day,
   when the disease belongs
                               to someone else.

Michelangelo, “Delphic Sybil”, 1509, Fresco, Sistine Chapel, Vatican City, Rome, Italy.

Sure Sibyl
From Delphi, you bear witness
in every direction
Daughter of immortal seas
Gravity fixes your posture
The pressure made personal
by mortal men
It may come as a shock, then
to know there have been many 
Axis Mundis
    The many Centers of the World include:
    – The Omphalion (“navel”) in Delphi, Greece
    – The Foundation Stone in Jerusalem, Israel
    – The Bodhi Tree in the Mahabodhi Temple in Bodh Gaya, India
    – Mualiman Napa, Kuopio
    – The Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, Turkey
    – Babylon in present-day Iraq
    – The altar at Paphos, present-day Kouklia, Cyprus
    – Mount Song or the nearby ancient capital Luoyang in central China
    – Cusco, Peru, according to Incan tradition
    – Baboquivari Peak Wilderness in Arizona, according to the O’odham Nation
    – A lithic site near Ahu Te Pito Kura, Easter Island
    – Mir Mine, Sakha Republic, Siberia

So, to every enduring prophetess
Awe is not a crime
neither transcending time
never-the-less
no pressure

It’s hard to teach AI what is real

and what is not.

The Furbo thinks that

the picture of the dog

on the food bag is my dog.

I received alerts telling me that

my dog is sitting in a laundry basket

in the kitchen.

So I turned the bag around,

not noticing the smaller picture

of the same collie

on the back of the package.

Now Furbo tells me my dog

is sitting in a bag in the kitchen.

I want to tell it that’s not my dog

even though it’s in my house.

That’s not even the right breed of dog.

I feel like Lily Tomlin

trying to teach the aliens about

the difference between soup and art.

Or Magritte’s pipe.

The image is not the actual thing.

On the back of my phone

is a picture of my last dog.

Sometimes I talk to it

or kiss it

or rub it

or hold it against my chest.

It’s hard to teach the heart

what is real and what is not.

Watercolor sky
The divine selects each hue
Eternal canvas