Calamities, distant or vague
Bring tremors to the mind
Where do you want to be
When the sun goes down?
Can you be anywhere,
Ubiquitous like the sun?
But the mind though untrammeled
Can not occupy all spaces.
A fisherman bruised by absence of fish
Will pursue with ferocity
Any hints of trout presence
In whatever weather or distance.
He will not be deceived by color
Or pitch of whirling waters
Or exasperated by any sinking thought
The oars are focused, desire is steeled.
Does begin the intellectual incarnation
A reverence for beauty and truth
The universe forever expanding
I’m feverishly reaching for your hand.
the mountain’s affection for the sunflower field
radical, abstract, abundant
folding laundry, looking at each other’s eyes
Quietly your self worth diminishes
like salt on a pavement
your voice loses its tone, forgotten.
Who will remember you?
A shadow in a system.
You cry. New tide comes,
covers the muddy river bank.
The white egret returns.
You survive another day.
Note: Last week Mrs. Abstract and I and our two friends toured Andy Warhol’s art Exhibit at MOMA in San Francisco, California. Very interesting.
Books I’m currently reading: Moby Dick by Melville and Paris, 7 A.M. by Liza Wieland, a novel about a young Elizabeth Bishop.
Mrs. Abstract and I just returned from holiday wine river cruise of the Duoro Valley in Portugal. Visited many places and sampled port wine in every excursions off the ship (or boat). We toured many gardens. We were always drinking wine with food.
El Greco’s masterpiece which is located at the Cathedral of Toledo, Spain.
Mrs. Abstract and I toured the cathedral yesterday. Lots of hard walking ascending and descending narrow, small-stone covered streets before arriving at the cathedral. 11,000 steps.
yesterday, I climbed 13 floors, walked more than 10,000 steps.
An austere mind can produce luxuries
Lucid not just in consciousness but also speech
To recite poetry I can reach eternity
I like to write emotions in words not in emojis
I try to visualize longitude and latitude
A ladder and a backpack
In braided places of discoveries
I will not play with thistles
Or comb my hair with my hand.
Don’t fill time with distractions
Don’t put it inside a pocket
Perish wisely and wildly
Or perish again?