Elephant Ears


Category: Beauty, Nature, Poetry

A curl within a curl

within a curl

ad infinitum.


A turquoise fractal

with salty skin

and a wicked tongue.


The golden ratio—

multiplying itself

in eternal swirls—

a pillow for Poseidon.


I stare out at the horizon,

blue walls of hydrogen

and oxygen molecules

holding hands


as I listen with elephant ears

to the peels

of white-cap backpacks

on these eternal sojourners.


The butterfly-effect is real.


Towers that bend

as my feet descend

to taste the ripe fruit

of exotic wings


is the passport

time forgot.


“When I was ambitiously young,

looking to grow my Nebu brand

and my Chaldean kingdom,

prophecy struck:

“an invisible hand hewed a rock

from the Mountain

that struck the base of the fountain

that raised to life a statue

with metal alloys and clay parts.

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In order to invoke imagination, we must break free from the contempt of illusion by appealing to the wondrous child in people. Doubt is the current condition; impartiality is the preferred attitude; familiarity—the hackneyed cavity; and so the method is to strike the “nerve of novelty” (as Chesterton brilliantly puts it), in order to achieve the goal of being winsome, like a fetching story…

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A strap hangs off her missing shoulder—

a pragmatic prostitute at a makeshift bordello

where there are no curfews,

rules or chores

only dark alleys and cardboard boxes

to claim and explore…

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