Silk Carpet


Those likened to color of flora and faun give pause upon the approach
An audible breeze growing in strength can be heard but not felt.
Then, it is upon you-
Rushing past and around you then seemingly – saturating your mind and body with the longing
Will thou who has never flown take to on a gliding wing…
Who’s carpet is this that transports and speaks silk beneath my feet?
Forth and deep – chest heaving for life but breathing fire
Let those who speak of deeds and act as such come and let the other go
Looking out the window waiting for the snow to taper and fairest fauna to return.

Stone Light and Wax Sculptures


The effort that it takes to sculpt wax is not as great as that of working granite but each has it’s art. One product, perhaps a candle, may bring instant pleasure and comfort while that labor that is expended in fashioning a stone heirloom – will last an age and retain a value over a longer period. But is one more valuable than the other? Can you take a marble fixture with you into the forest or to Mt. Washington? Can you spread a grand plan of parchment out upon a candle or even serve a feast? Each has it use and compliment – for we would not be able to properly view the map of our fortunes in the dark without a slab of granite within the light of a candle.

Spoon on the Glass

ImagePerched upon the mouth of the glass laid a spoon. The stem of the utensil lie across the lip at the height of its orifice while the shallow steel bowl, at its tip, sat on edge opposite – its tiny girth slightly nestled and suspended inside the glass like a hammock containing a small bundle.

Placed on the table to serve mixtures of sweet concoction, a libation or to prepare tonics of medicinal merit – this pint of heated blown wonder would contain purpose far beyond serving mere portions of brew intended to distract the weary from a strenuous day’s labor or to lower social inhibitions. The partnership between the two would never be broken unless the vessel be shattered or the utensil be lost.

Ware of the table of my wise father and a container of my mothers kitchen of hot spices where so much chemistry was bonded and solution spilled – the content of his brow coupled and forged by the heat of her chest – boiled and stirred in such vessels serving to perplex the mind and intoxicate the consumed.

May we be a solution of its parts, made whole and in solid form – your cells of Mars maybe the god of war, a blueprint from which we sprang produced from the same potion and stirred by a known manipulation. Cels of war and feigned temperance wrought only men who have no time for tempered words and little intention of forging bonds of brotherhood in the face of hotter topics.

While he say “let by gones be – by gone” I feel this utterance is impractical when coping in blood relations. Say I that it be foolish to not shed light on paths left trodden with anger or with carelessness?

Not having allowance large or small to tolerate a small foul to pass without great incident prompting continued hibernation and harsh acts of pride and seething temper. We shall not endure to open this Pandora in its entirety or in haste but maybe sing each note in monotone to open ears with no other instrument to cloud the air for fear of further poisoning the listener’s heart and mind against future concert.

Although not practical or directly verbalized, it is a labor nonetheless and merits a listen:

I believe quite possibly,
That it could be a symphonic introduction –
Celebrated stories –
Stirred by the spoon in the glass –
Of the House of Black.