Sunset, Madagascar (ef)

Under the coming promise of velvet night
Reality lets cautiously loose
As sunset's frail wings
Neatly clasp to the ocean's, firm
In union, perfection, collaboration
As if any old sunset would do.

Rival evenings, lost from memory
If either eye saw more beauty
Pale now, paler still
Holding soft hand to strong
At sunset's iridescent cue
Every star lets its dance begin
Under the looming curfew of dawn
Stand beside me, dance with me, too.

History (ef)

History finds safety in
the color of a mirror -
maintaining every image,
every passing scene in silver.
As compared to the originals,
it’s near-match perfection
avoids detection.
But there’s a mocking turn
and a pervasive ripple
in each offering, each
reflection.
When pushed into a corner,
so defensive it becomes!
It repeats itself
as far as the eye can section,
a possible infinity in each direction.

Rocks (ef)

So, I am just a grain of sand
washing away at the feet of space
and time
and softened and fading more with
each turn of the tide -
Is that it?

You push your foot down
and my little sketches,
and my secret language become as
shadowed
as the seas on the moon -

There’s a big, empty glass -
it’s not half-full -
I said it is a big, empty glass -
and you have to put the big rocks in
first or they will never, ever fit when
all the smaller debris starts to fall in
place -

It was only supposed to be a
dissertation on time management
but it led to deeper, more disturbing
thoughts of life management -
where life equals crisis and satisfying
moments,
Where I equal the sand that slips in
between those first-come, first-served
rocks that pushed their way into the
big, empty glass...

But, it is important to remember
that sand was once one of these big
rocks that takes the space up now
and in time
(managed or unmanaged)
the rocks will come to know this
humbleness
as their newfound tiny-ness has them
sink and tumble
between their former peers
and settle on the bottom of the glass
to keep me company.

Meantime, in the sand,
inside your footprints
unimaginably smaller things
make their way
inside my little sketches
and learn my secret language.