Memorete, Nos Sumus Potentes,Tam Valete

Remember we are strong, so be powerful

Remember we exist, so be valiant

So valete, you fears, insecurities, depart

We are life unveiled, truth vigorous, and ways unvulgar

Vereremini, you winds, fly, valete, fare unwell

For we, the last words, verdant with vims valid, are


Ode to hot water

hot water.png

Vir Bonus Meus, Ecce Aquae Calidae! O Quid Vita Bulliens, Hic Est!

Marciel Atopodmas, De Rebus Simplicibus Vitae

O bubbling clarity, shimmering and smoking before me!

O burning cloud, a suspended soaring breath marching

Off, a brisk cascade showered skyward, birthed monstrously!

For here, silver wreathed, does the life giver show its life,

Foam, bubbly and frothy, not dead airy graves lining stagnant waves

Fires broil the flood, steam seethes through the tongues

Yet neither ebbs; the stoic spirit, the consumer absorbed

Yet rages;  with a cool humor, the saturator contained

Yet surges—annihilation foiled, the essences contrasted are inspired.

Their animosity quenched lets life thrive amidst cupped ashes—

Though remaining there, a substantial titan shall lurk, a burg

Threatening: thus gaze aside that the old geyser gushes anew

Mist belched supreme above a simmered creator, bears ostentatiously

Moistened breath, splashing away shrill, calls a bard over

Murmur bursting, screaming as steam cries a ballad out.

Cineribus Extinctis, Spes Hauriat

I am incinerated

A phoenix did die

I am extinguished

Smoke rises where I lie


I am exhausted

See breaths ending soar

I am desperate

Hope boxed, there stored


So take ashes

Shape me so fire is spurned

So quench me

Fulfill the ends to which I yearned


So draw me up

Inspire breaths within renewed

Give me your hope

Guide me in all gifts imbued

Busy by a Bee

Arrested by imbued grandeur’s glands 

As by a buzz I was stung you see

Nerved to rave, weaving strands

worths verbose, all this by a bee

For that fury desired for me

To write in a wry array

That pollen packer set free

That which would stay

Dear Apis aptly, stare 

See melius melior be

Yet for chap’s sake fair

Leave me instigation free

The grammar of fluidity

In poetry, we adults are once again found as infants even in our maternal waters of language. As children, we learned the rules, memorized the guidelines, believed in the principles. But as adults, we saw there were exceptions. The long broad shadows cast down from the sky means nothing to a child newborn, infant unlearned, and tottering toddler wandering. But to the adult, they see the shadow, recognize the vulture’s presence, and discern that carnage lies nigh, unseen, but quite nearby.

So it is with poetry. As children, we learn words, understand them as nouns, verbs, adjectives, etc, then formulate them into sentences, building from these paragraphs, from which we  construct essays that are published in books to fill our libraries. Yet poetry befuddles this, looking on with magenta mirth, in fuschia fervency, outside the lines coloring us, calling this cute. Since we humans are mortal, we are finite, thus must interact with the world in a finite manner, measuring and comparing, understanding and perceiving, everything through a finite lens that brings structure and order so that our minds can grasp and interact with things.

Simply, we can not transcend the TL:DR, TMI–we must live in medias res and not beyond, for us to understand things. Thus we have made ideas finite in a language graspable, congealed life into sentences manageable. But poetry befuddles this. Poetry sees your sentences, its commas flowing, its conjunctions connecting, its periods ending–but continues on ignoring these with its stanzas breaking, enjambing, alluding, inferring, yet never quite explicitly declaring distinct points

For poetry is the grammar of fluidity, for within her waves we must wade as we learn again how to swim.

Operam Navate et Natate , Infans Natatus