What do you hear when I say, ‘I love you?
a trombone played with plungers and mutes
the wah woah wah of Mrs. Hagemeyer, nee Othmar
do your eyes blear as phonemes fly by
and words devolve into meaningless globs
I say it again and again hoping to get through
but the phrase begins to lose all meaning
still, I persist
to reach you where you are
knowing that if language is the only homeland
then we are far from home
In Search Of The Wondrous Whole
we fools rush in
traversing the sward
trampling the pasture
missing the trees for the forest.
We miss the smalti
gold leaf hand cut
mounted on glass
covered with crystal hand blown
fused into pure reflection of light–
in pursuit of imagery
overlooking the art.
We simply don’t see
or taste as the case may be.
Moving from the luminous
to the ridiculous,
our nine-year-old smelling curry,
scurries through the kitchen
through clouds of coriander,
cumin and mustard
onion, garlic and oil.
breathing through her mouth,
she hurries from the house
into the yard
and the wider world
where the numinous is laid bare
in wildflowers and weeds.
Ode To A Can Opener (A Lovelace 2.0 Sonnet)
Can opener, inspire my meals tonight
How do I love the way you cut and turn
Most helpful tool, you grab and grind and bite
Unlocking tasty food for which I yearn.
Let me compare you to a grapefruit spoon
You are more toothy and more curious
If you’d create a meal for me this noon
my workday would be less laborious
It is a fine utensil you can see
Surprising me with new and splendid food
Originating yummy treats for me
That always meet my wishes and my mood
If this be more machine than living thing,
I never wrote, nor songs did ever sing.