Lyndon

tears well
buckets descend
dreams walk the bridge
between psyche and sunrise

I am tired of the surface
the mundane, the conveyer belt of routine
to do, to do, to do
check, check, check

fashion me a bucket
slip me into a spate of tears
drop me below night’s horizon
into the star-studded sea
where I will sink, then dissolve
into a timeless remembering
of origins and being
and sweet, deep return

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Photo by Scott Carroll on Unsplash

It was spoken
in the angle
of the fawn’s cracked neck
twisting toward flank.

It was whispered
in death’s blinding act
the unseeing eye,
all life’s promise broken
in a flash of steel
headlights and flesh
meeting.

It was echoed
in the brown and white-spotted husk
crumpled on the roadside

while the doe stands
across the divide
still, listening, waiting.

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We are in the eternal spin cycle of artificial intelligence, AI, and the algorithms thereof. The underlying media strategy of exploiting the sensational is not much different than pre-internet days when the mode of operation for newspapers and tv channels was "Whatever bleeds leads."

While I feel compassion for both Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck in this circumstance, they have PR people and additional resources to address it.

The stakes are devastatingly higher in the political/electoral realm which is putting our democracy at risk (or as I've written previously, on life support.) I understand that you utilized a celebrity news story to reveal the greater challenge and more important story unfolding. "Flooding the zone with shit" is right out of the books of infamous autocrats and tyrants, as citizens are left dazed and/or divided on what's true or important.

Thanks.

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sunset’s end, photo by Lyndon

Watch the life cycle
repeat repeat repeat
as another sunset cracks open:
hot sun on western blue,
descending into a river of colors
that soaks clouds, gilds peaks,
all radiant glory to dimming drop.

Finally the last smudge
of deep rose fades to charcoal
on this autumnal night,
a scent of apples
lacing the breeze.

And I see my life
amidst human time
not even a half breath,
then pray-
May the ash of my bones
be anointed with wild rose
then released to sea, soil,
no human marker
save the imprint
of love.

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