Rosie the Riveter
My diamond lens
The kaleidoscope to my perspective
My sexy sidekick
My modern motif
You make the world beauty
And simply stated.
Category: fiction and poetry
The Beautiful Beet
The enigmatic tendency of nature, the goal is beauty
Sexy curves confuse with a hypnotic dance
Uniform and unique the multitude of spiral slices
Are sweet and crisp
Delicate and divinely lush
A late summer gift, to remind you of the surprises
Still waiting to be unearthed.
The Poor Man’s Slow Hustle #3
I feel free again, already, knowing that my week will not be dominated by the demands of the man.
Relaxed, like I can breath. That pressure bubble of time has lifted, and I can think about doing things for myself again. I can continue to answer my endless list of questions, I can make long lists written in pencil and actually cross out completed missions.
Time can slow down again, and time can relax into a flexible scheme instead of a tightly run plan.
I am no longer fully dominated by work, saving that precious feeling of freedom solely for myself, locked in my own mind just to make sure that I give myself enough attention.
The Garden’s Song
I am sorry, but I cannot hear you over the siren of the cicadas. It’s like a beat getting funky in your head phones, the right side on, then the left. Not at the same time, usually, both sides, but they respond to each other’s echo, playing a game with their percussion melody. The loud siren fades out, only to come back stronger again. The symphony of their song overtakes the neighborhood, leaving a dent of solitude when they lull into silence.
The magical Garden
The banana peppers are hanging out like two chartreuse hammocks. Lazily they sway in the wind, unaware of the battle cries of the cicadas raging on all around.
The collard greens are building a metropolis with their towering height and visual domination. Collards always seemed so calm to me, but they certainly are focused on supremacy and upward mobility.
The kale is crazy with curls, filling in vacant spaces between the monstrous collard greens, mimicking a city block.
The squash vines are threating to lace over even the neighbors yard, to twine each living thing together like a raft lost on the oceans waves.
The ruby red gems of the tomato plants are quickly stolen by the garden robbers, with traces of their juicy insides strewn about the yard. Red pieces of dead soldiers dot the green grass.
The herbs are like a buzz cut covering their wooden container beds.
The Charming Train Car
Third time is a charmed chance for a mundane train ride to work. I hardly take the train with the option of riding Turnip, but I have been lucky enough to have experienced an acapella song from two young aspiring singers 3 times. Of all the passing trains, of the long line of train cars strung together for the journey across town and back, of all the varying times in the late morning, these two musicians have chosen my ride 3 times now.
They introduced themselves, sing an oldie but goodie song, filling in the beat with snapping fingers and the thump of a tapping foot. These two young men look nothing like the part they are singing. They don’t dress the part, they don’t look like a typical musician, and they don’t demand anything. They have a cd, 4 songs for $5. They give a short spiel about themselves, and then sing a song.
Three times on the short green line train ride for the 3 quick stops, they have serenaded me, started my day out brilliantly, delighted me with their talent, their inspiration to sing in front of strangers, and to passively ask for money to in order to pursue their dreams. They have a great song, I hope they keep on singing, and I hope they keep on finding me on my short green line journey to brighten my day with their muse.
Insomia Inspirations
The cicadas are singing although the summer’s sizzle remains silent.
The wind’s whistle has wound down to whispers of forgotten wonders.
The clamorous children have chilled down to cool calm, keeping clandestine clues of their company.
The people parade past peacefully, particularly predisposed to participating in practical partying.
Sleep should be sound, but my psyche is still spinning swiftly, severely sidetracked from the summertime slumber.
Twilight’s Magic & Me
I love writing in the twilight. It’s more than inspiring, I find it calming. The hot sun has subsided for the day, the moon is still missing. When the guardians of the sky are not looking, possibilities pop up and over. The extremes are forgotten. There is no black or white, or even gray, those do not exist here. It’s basically a rainbow moment, a snap in time when magic is material. It is an enchanted part of the day that I love to spend in my enchanted garden.
Twilight is both abstract and concrete, a concept and a visual. It is a feeling, a perception, an event, and a color. This confusion of perception and the physical is an inspiring place and time. A tranquil transition that produces an event with a certain calm, a subtle change in the color scheme in the kaleidoscope of our vision, creating a feeling of openness and vulnerability. Without the extremes of the day light and the dark night, perceptions change and awareness wanders.
Twilight can be described as an elusive mood, not settled on one particular identity. Here, in this refracting confusion, I find certainty and rediscover what it means to wonder.
Vision and Dependence
I loose like everything. I am a loser, certainly. The first thing to do, is to look for said lost item. You use your set of sparkling irises to look, scanning every room, trying to locate your lost set of keys or the misplaced cellular phone. Remember when the phone used to be connected to the wall, and losing your phone was not an issue? I bet if you asked people nowadays, they would say that losing or breaking their phone is high on the stress list.
When you can’t find the lost item with you eyes, the next step is more cognitive. You retrace your movements, remember your motions, and deduce the most logical spot where you placed the item. If these two methods fail, you are screwed. There is no back-up plan, there is no gravity in your fingertips that will attract the lost thing to you. Finding something lost is nothing about a feeling, or desire, its all about the eyes.
If you can’t see it, its gone. Just like that. We rely so heavily on this visual tool, its amazing that more things do not get lost. I wish we had a back-up plan for physical organization that transcends this one way of solving the riddle.
Don’t tell me to get a key hook, that does not work. Organizing is very important, but sometimes the system fails. And when it does, you wish that phones were still connected to the wall, the front door key is under the welcome mat. Because this is your only salvation, we have not evolved to have another plan for finding lost items which cannot speak for themselves. I bet Google will figure this out for us…? He is a creep like that and cannot wait to read your mind.
The Magnetic Eye
It is as if eyes want to meet you in the street. Eyes know when another set of eyes are pondering upon them. It is not a thought process, it is a feeling, a burning intuition that every person has. It’s not a girl thing, or a cultural thing, it’s a human thing. It is a chemistry thing. This pull has nothing to do with the thought process, it is a strong innate reaction.
Have you ever tried staring at a person and have them not look up immediately? Unless they are very focused, in which it might take a full minute for them to realize, normally you are not even trying to look at a person before their lids up open and those irises are pointed directly into yours.
For example, you are on the train and you are trying to glance out the window, but you happen to notice anything, just anything, about the line of people directly across from you. Just about every damn time, they look back at you for that one instance. They know that you are not looking at them in particular, but if the gaze goes in that direction, the other set of eye balls answer right back.
There are magnets in the irises, a deep gravity in that mysterious white background of the diamond iris lens that pulls other eye balls into your depth of vision.
marigolds forever 