with the eyes

he learned chemistry with his eyes alone mix this with that no too much no . . . interesting let’s try it the colours never seen before the shades and hues all his alone the pottery done once bespoken the series run only until the colours are all gone and chemistry with the eyes is …

attire (for a blue day)

  he checks the wardrobe all the garments hanging there chooses a jacket made of clear light tries it on his body disappears light is only light but it is strong so something darker so something to hold his shape a corset of shadows and buttons whistling he adjusts the cloth of his jacket steps …

the need (for the wind) will pass

the storm will pass at the uprooting of the tree all of its swaying is rehearsal when it falls an old tree toppling the reed in the pond so deeply bent will rise once more and so the wind will blow while the tree is standing but with the fall there will be no need …

dreaming (actually)

he dreamed a dream of living and lived it while he slept lived like a full blown being never knowing he was not real in his dream he knew the things he did had substance meant something in the dream of his dream he dreamt himself adrift in the dream he rose higher there the …

the first

  I dreamed of a flame I’d never seen before but I knew it like the oldest of my familiars see I’ve sat before the fire for a thousand nights or a thousand years or all of my life I have watched that small flame dancing and in my dream my body rises I sway …

the hues of heaven

the painter arranges a stool a tripod companion to his tripod easel the canvas is primed ready and awaits on the stool a book large old leather bound it is the book of his life his bible a record of his family from before time began a decorated pathway to heaven the forbidding of hell …

deep (shallow)

how deep is the shallow it is deep it is deep the gravel that is gold is an illusion the sun bends its light and sprays colour everywhere but beware the illusion it is deep ~ Poem #551 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

lullaby to a waterlily

good night sweet flower withdraw your head sleep beneath the stillness of these waters awake young again awaken new open to the golden light of morning ~ Poem #542 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

lotus promises for orange blossoms

this? oh this is only my orange tree I am bringing it out from the greenhouse can you smell the citrus rising into the air? I rose early this morning and glimpsed summer in the promise made by a water lily red or white or blue when I see the flower I know the lotus …

the gleaner

I will glean bit by bit behind you as you haste among the rows I will find stray grain until come a time come one fine hour I will take the beaten wheat that kneady dough what you have never seen ... never called to mind what fell from you in such clumsy haste will …