Snowy branches never lose their charm

Key West Branches

One of my favorite things to photograph – a cluster or tangle of things. Branches. Sometimes buildings.

Activation of a kindred that makes “I” plural in the land of self-reference

Don’t ask for meaning as there is really only this strange stuff that happens…

 

pre-speech, we recall first memory when I met you and became we:

the wall wasn’t there but it was

something held it there for a brief time

but it didn’t hold

it didn’t stay put

the wall wilted

went wilting beyond the frames

what happened to the wall?

you walked through

there was a poster there as big as the wall

you didn’t tear it though

it became slow liquid    delayed movement

with a soupy sound

was delayed soupy too when you came

I was still so still

while the world jammed its strange whiz

whiz-bomb fast yammer jamming in my head

(that contained every single radio wave / tv signal)

the messages chatter in voices of light

words uttered at light speed made sputter by the impossible blur

you came and spread vapor into my corners

making shadows live in unknown tar

inaccessible unknowable by the paralyzed person in the bed

I was gripped

you came      you became my four corners

I wired into the mass cyber neon interstate of the universe with no boundaries to my head

and I waited

and I wait

and we wait for the light to drink the nightmare from our limbs.

One Analysis of a Hotheaded Floridian

My Face Is Like a Sun

My face is like a sun when I smile

My sun-filled mind was switched on
In a sun-drenched place
Through my skin, sun met sun
Making me golden – red – brown
Weighting my eyelids, fire-blood swimming
Though most moments held a strength of water
even in gray days of lightning
the sun waited behind wind and palms

I grew up in an element factory
Always charged under listlessness
My mind was switched on in dizzy heat
Neurons always overworked before noon
The brightness … inside and out … too much too much

Now in temperate light
I try to bear the sun within me
But many times I go dark
I must keep the early light in my head
Because without it there is no smile    no sun
Glad that computers show what brain light looks like
As I lose the south, I find the original sun
The one that has always lived in my brain

Someone told me:
My face is like a sun when I smile …
If I remember this, maybe …
If only I could always remember this