I am the vine; you are the branches
Looking Around, Believing
by Gary Soto
How strange that we can begin at any time.
With two feet we get down the street.
With a hand we undo the rose.
With an eye we lift up the peach tree
And hold it up to the wind — white blossoms
At our feet. Like today. I started
In the yard with my daughter,
With my wife poking at a potted geranium,
And now I am walking down the street,
Amazed that the sun is only so high,
Just over the roof, and a child
Is singing through a rolled newspaper
And a terrier is leaping like a flea
And at the bakery I pass, a palm,
Like a suctioning starfish, is pressed
To the window. We’re keeping busy —
This way, that way, we’re making shadows
Where sunlight was, making words
Where there was only noise in the trees.
Wings by Miroslav Holub
We have
a map of the universe
for microbes,
we have
a map of a microbe
for the universe.
we have
a Grand Master of chess
made of electronic circuits.
But above all
we have
the ability
to sort peas,
to cup water in our hands,
to seek
the right screw
under the sofa
for hours
This
gives us
wings.
What an utterly perfect poetic response to the poem that I just published…perfect sentiment. I go in search of another…dueling poetry…a noble way to spend the time, me thinks! Sending you painting-creative energy.
“dueling poetry” – I like – noble indeed. Thank you for the creative energy vibes…