Simple Complex Realities

Our delicate weather, this sunshine state, its moody contradiction: our aces and kings, our tender memories, our neuronic harbingers: this kingdom by silence, this kingdom by treacheries, plus, this resilience to relocate honesties: our cringing wilderness, this lady in black, our talkative habits.  This aromatic coffee, this banana muffin, this aloof newspaper: our casual eyes, at casual cries, seated in this roomy city: our deceptive magazines, while never such beauty, to arise a feeling forming distrust: this elegant statue, this picturesque waterfall, and that nearby vestibule: our memory’s museum, our sketchy tablets, or this bundle of coins: as laundry lingers, as laziness centers, while pungent odors are bombarded by Febreze.  We shared a steak, this reasonable course, attempting this diet: our burgers and fries, our sausage and eggs, our guilt and determination: this land of obesities, our treasured placation, and this well of milk and money.  Our nightly news, our blues and rhythms, our milk and cakes: this dearth of calcium, this effort to attend our famine, our days at existence: this statuesque moon, this extravagant sun, our stars silent by night-sighs: this morning’s grasshopper, this litter of kitties, that diligent and passive mother.  Our evenings cleaning, our restrooms filthy, as realizing it always demands attention: this lot of humans, this wood-designed-floor, or this shaggy carpet: our kitchen dishes, our dinner inventions, while tossing this old bag of Hamburger Helper: indeed, with life, our dusty windowpanes, our dusky emotions.  I write of aphorisms, but rarely do I gripe, while acidic oceans rage in this gut: this sea-dahlia, this cliff bumble-bee, this anxious tiger: as pacing our consciences, while swiping figs, while pushing intuition: that sudden roar, those myriad faces, our dreams confounded by emotions: as unresolved, this moment in time, while years are invested in particular fantasies: this inner warzone, this need to careful our thoughts, or this vulnerable disposition: as birds sing, about this simple life, while facing this complex hawk.  I gaze upon dressers: at this container of butter, this tube of Gold Bound, and this plethora of individual items: our New Year’s solution, this Healing Softness, those pair of weights: plus, this brilliant irony, as if life wasn’t demanding, to censor with life this domesticated zeal: those high buttons, this inverted tension, our bodies reacting with eczema: those dear apples, this topical syrup, or more this hankering for walnut breads: as souls breathing, this dusty river, listening as our souls growl: our moody features, this quick solution, or our disappointments. 

I attempt at thoughts, while scratching my ego, while working towards some goal: this cranky refrigerator, those ecstatic crickets, or these jumping spiders: this scenery with time, this musical reality, this complex simplicity: our chores pushing us, our doors recording mirrors, our tours through our homes: this blatant shadow, this laughing pantomime, or this cave so steep our minds are troubled: this seven foot mirror, this typing while feeling, as geometric souls.  It becomes our waltz, this abandoned rubric, this old rosary: our nights at prayer books, our days reciting our memories, and this couch in its perfect space: those at home libraries, this book overdue, or this old coat that offers comfort: our leather boots, our casual slacks, or this pair of Italian something: this deep motion, this centered frustration, this combing island: where life becomes mementoes, and bibles become birthmarks, while essence becomes sophistication: this gloomy insight, this unbearable insistence, or our courage to persevere: our minds in college, our souls in refinements, our Hamptons a mere morsel and essay: this deep demand, as purely upon self, while framing this terrific puzzle: indeed, this life, and that darn concern, while flaring fires.