good new poetry

Pictures and Poetry: The Bio-Domes

  

the sea and the sun

and the wind which shapes this world

cannot change your soul

God cannot tell you

who you are or what to do

flowers breathe and bloom

we are strong as rocks

no matter the size, each stone

is part of a whole

 

   I'd like to present to you some new work which I've been working on. Expect to see large prints of these pictures and other images dealing with the cohabitation of man and earth in the coming weeks, as well as show announcements for the Spring and Summer. The three photographs I've highlighted here were all taken in Milwaukee this February at the Mitchell Park Conservatory Bio-Domes. The domes are always an other-worldly experience - stark geometry contrasted by exotic natural beauty. This was made plain for us immediately upon entering. In flaming scarlet, a male Cardinal danced desperately with a female, the two separated by the glass and steel of the domes, doomed, yet determined, the sound of wings batting fruitlessly against the barrier sounding a subtle echo through the hum of the ventilation system.

Poetry: "electric."

I was going through a notebook that I''ve nearly finished up and came across this poem from just about a year ago exactly. It is exactly what I look for in a poem: it's concise, yet comfortably charismatic. It's important for even a short poem to have some kind of dynamic range. So, here, in all it's glory, is "electric."

 

electric.

 

 

is there anything more beautiful

than a woman reading?

 

the drapes softly undulating

with the room's respiration.

 

she turns a page --- 

lips pursed in thoughtful anticipation ---

 

undresses her arms

bringing the open book to eye level

 

the air still,

 

 

and electric.

 

 

...m.e.s. .jan.30.2012...

Poetry: "your love is the meaning."

looking for meaning in
meaningless poetry
or 140 character statements of intent.
if meaning could be distilled like spirits
into something more valuable
than the combination of electricity and matter
would it (matter)?

do our symbols have some value
beyond their inherent vessel?
that if we arrange them in some secret manner
they will become incantations
of some ancient order --- so great and powerful
history itself forgot to remember ---
except lover, sister, father, mother,
they're all just words, like any other:
meaning made to fit our patterns
which we ourselves control and inhabit
with our tears and our laughter

life begets itself - and don't you forget it -
even when we take our own broken lives as fragments
and try to rearrange them, looking for magic,
magnets of time place everything in order;
the miracle of existence asserts its physics
and we are witness,
we see, yet deny it
blind before battle.

father tries to fix his spirit
while mother mixes the batter
sister reads and dreams with merit
learning to understand why and how life matters
the words she reads excites her soul
are in the bible and coyote calls of the wild
and mild air of the Mediterranean horizon
"open sesame" says  Ali Baba in writing
 Hallelujah, Hare Krishna, I love you, the sheep and the lion,
what does it mean our guttural implying?
consonants to vowels, phrases for rhyming
the chiming of our words like bird song in the evening,
beautiful as itself, elemental and needed,
if communication is existence, your love is the meaning.

...m.e.s. .jan.23.2012...