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Bates

It is two years later, and Norman seems
To be living normal, without lament,
But his psyche is haunted by dark dreams .

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RedBoxPlainSm*[ WSB ].

Filters

RoseSmell

From the first breath to the last exhalation
The screen door filters the particles that sweep
Past, the molecules that amalgamate
Into a lifetime, scanty but personal .
Odors tumble minus vocabulary
Raveling with flavors of moistened texture .

The synesthetic substrate of metaphor
Springs from the cross–wiring of the switchboard
Predicting environs with abstract brushstrokes
That capture the impressionistic points and
Waves that roughhouse obscure across the canvas,
A painting that approaches the limit of
Perception, the lunar eclipse of pink floyd .

The ghost in the attic listens through the bones,
Notes other moans and wails, conjures consensus,
Dissects electromagnetic decibels
And the nanotextures of fragrant flavors :
And sketches the forms scratching at the box .

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Nightscene

Whale

Under the sublunary vault,
The nightlight half–shuttered,
The pale mares clip–clop on
Purple cumuli that wallow
Like blooming watercolors
Into the tumbling sea :
A vaulted leviathan rolls
Under the dark wash of pigments
And melts into chaos, a figment
But for the weight of song
That solemnly anoints the nightscene .

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Snow Falling

SnowFall

Snow falling Dickensian
Coats the earth picturesque .
The dendrites sharp as glass
Hiss against the stark terrain,
Awaiting crunchy footsteps .

White-noise pointillism
Smears the distance into fog,
Quiets place into mystic
Clarity—lull of mantra .
Touchable, the fuzzy sky
Hanging low sheds more snow
Like a shaking polar bear .

Glassy rime candies the tree
Branches, sharpened by the wind;
The catalogued snowflakes :
Prisms, plates, stars and columns,
Triangles and rosettes
Interlock like rafting ants
As snow feathers gently down
Profound like no summer day .

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Falling Wait

Earth

After a flat–earther is flown to the feathering
Of the welkin, wait to witness the welcoming of
The spherical, empirical, marbled arc below .

And in that rotund roundness,
The fall of conspiracy :
Ball balling ;  then laughter .

RedBoxPlainSm*[ WSB ].

Winter

SnowFlower

q2l

W hat are we when the sun dims
And the moon is queen of the sky ?

When the leaves brown
And the birds vanish

When the wind chills the body
And the bears sleep forever
And everything seems dead

Then a glint of hope
A small delicate thing
The only sight of beauty in this frozen wasteland

        A snowflake

                Then two

                       Then five

Then five hundred freefalling like feathers
Daintily landing upon the frozen ground

           Long times pass

        And then the snow melts
And what should I see out of my frostbitten window but

                       A flower

         Spring at last

Todd Hollow

RedBoxPlainSm*[ WSB ].

Stomp

Flamenco
Boxx version | “ The Flamenco Dancer . ” Leopold Schmutzler .
Stirring wind of wing :
Splitting rock underhoof,
Spurring song from stream :
Romp in the rill,
Stomp on the foothill
Of Helicon .

Heavy the footfall
Of flamenco
Fandango,
Skunk bluff–scuffing
And rabbit thumping :
Stanzaic .

Steam of snort fogs the short
Hoofstamp and sand dragging,
The jogging cloggers—
Percussive souls folkloric .
Toe-tapping, heel–slapping
Meter meteoric .

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Ample Cover

ouroboros

There are stars that never rise or fall
Offering ample cover from the trickster
Gamboling the rushes with a tambourine,
The percussive cymbals in three degrees .
The dimple deepens with the curling smirk
For the dying kings swallowed by darkness,
Black holes patient for every random star,
Tangerine sunsets after the harvest .

Ouroboros shrinks into quarks abuzz
Regardless of amber snapshots of gist
And the painted minstrel marks the folly
Of the crouching predator in plain view .
The jester clutches madness as the only
Answer since the prey only prolongs fate,
Always snipping at beleaguered fare
Not sussing that hope is also genetic .

RedBoxPlainSm*[ WSB ].

Let’s Not Be L7

L7

Fixed in the grid
With angles squarely set ;
Locked, as it were,
In the matrix :
Newspaper columned .

Let us not be thus ;
Cubistic in crystal,
Vibratory in place :
Separate from the music
That circles away .
Dance
With the wheels that turn .

Upstanding Quadrilateral,
Conservative,
Marching up and down
In unison :
Lockstep—
Trapped by right angles

Feel the brownian bubbles ferment .
Release the ornamental
Constraint
Of the perfumed bosom ;
Loosen the tie and
Live ;
Pack away the mortarboard
That clips the wing–beat .

Outside of place settings
And floor–space,
The compassed garden
Escapes acreage :
The arc of planets
Encircles the endless sky,
Spreading .

Below,
One vertex sticks out of the mud .

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