What Are They Doing in the Next Room by Bruce Smith

Are they unmaking everything?
Are they tuning the world sitar?
Are they taking an ice pick to being?
Are they enduring freedom in Kandahar?

Sounds, at this distance, like field hollers,
sounds like they’ll be needing CPR.
Sounds like the old complaint of love and dollars.
Sounds like when Coltrane met Ravi Shankar

and the raga met the rag and hearing
became different and you needed CPR
after listening and tearing was tearing
and love was a binary star—

distant bodies eclipsing each other
with versions of gravity and light.
Sounds like someone’s trying to smother
the other—a homicide or a wedding night.

The television derives the half-full hours.
Time exists as mostly what’s to come.
Losing also is ours…
I meant that as a question.

Is I the insomniac’s question?
Are you a dendrite or a dream?
Between oblivion and affection,
which one is fear and which protection?

Are they transitive or in?
Are they process or product?
Are they peeling off the skin?
Are they Paris or the abducted?

They’re reading something after Joyce,
post modern stuff that can be read
but not understood except as voices
rising and falling from the dead.

Do they invent me
as I invent their faces?
I see surveillance gray wasted
with bliss at having thieved identities.

In the AM, when turns to usted,
the sun clocks in to overwrite the night
with hues and saturations and the red
hesitates for a second to be incarnate.

Artist :   Michael OswaldWork  :   Soul SearchingLink   :    http://bit.ly/WUdNLC

Artist :   Michael Oswald
Work  :   Soul Searching
Link   :    http://bit.ly/WUdNLC

1 note

Love in the Morning by Annie Finch

Morning’s a new bird
stirring against me
out of a quiet nest,
coming to flight—

breath-filling body,

clean as clear water,

kindling companion,

mystery and mountain,


A human brain dissection 

The pictures show how professor Steve Gentleman dissects a brain at the Brain Bank. This research helps scientists to learn more about little-understood and devastating conditions from Parkinson’s disease to Alzheimer’s and multiple sclerosis

The Guardian

3,021 notes

Closer by Peter Covino

In the end there was
       a certain grace

splayed on the table

our beloved (pup)

five sedated on
       a manual respirator


overdose in wait
       human hair

not fur its smell
       and luster

in spite of a final
       breath-less episode

just minutes before
       we arrived for our

nightly visit the ex and I
       he from across country

in case of the worst
       sweet pup

earlier in the day
       recognizing his hide

and seek whistle
       paw shake of recognition

cone headed oxygen
       tubes stapled to her nose

the ex fearing our last
       link too expiring

yes, a certain grace
       to release this spirit

from the metal
       vet emergency room cages

to sniff her hair
       in the last shallow

horror of breath
       a stopped baby-like

heart all muscle
       and miles of hiking

reduced to toneless
       aspiration pneumonia

complication of—
       the ominous seriousness

released spirit etherized
       in the lingering smell

of the keepsake collar
       and blanket on the bed

at my feet where
       nightly she tried

to creep up
       pawing me still