He starts with the easy pieces~
the corners, the edges, the parts of life
that stay where they’re put.
But the sky refuses to behave.
Its fragments lift from the table,
hovering above his hands
like small constellations
waiting for him to remember
where they once belonged.
He doesn’t look startled anymore.
Some puzzles do that~
they rise when you’ve asked too much of gravity,
when the unfinished part of your life
decides it’s tired of lying flat.
He reaches for a star-shaped piece,
but it drifts upward,
as if the cosmos has opinions
about how he should finish himself.
He laughs under his breath,
the way someone laughs
when they’re almost ready
to admit the truth.
The truth is this:
he’s not assembling a picture.
He’s assembling a question.
Every floating shard of sky
is a reminder that the universe
isn’t something you complete~
it’s something you join
one piece at a time.
It could be mistaken for a shopping list,
or a set of instructions
for assembling a bookshelf,
but you had to go and call it a poem!
Eventually you learn
by the daily application of ignorance and error,
to ride a poem as if it were a unicycle
even so, the larger the wheel
the greater the chance
of a slow-motion fender-bender.
Unless you want to be metaphorically crucified
or theoretically burnt at a stake
for God’s sake don’t give this thing that you do
any kind of definitive name.
Hinged or unhinged they are most often
just thoughts squiggling up to a surface
like worms after a heavy rain,
simply deconstructed word-worms,
but that’s okay
you already said that,
so now you can look cool
and kind of a deep thinker.
When we want to begin healing ourselves,
We finally take puzzle boxes from our shelves.
We begin with identifying every edge piece,
Deciding if what's outside is worth our peace.
We then work assembling pieces slowly,
Working towards center, thinking deeply.
When the picture becomes full and clear,
We then remember people we hold dear.
When we want to know more about things,
We learn all answers are within all writings.
Like a word search, the words are all there.
You just have to "listen," show how you care.
When you feel so lost in any life chapter,
Just remember what you were originally after.
Just as we solve puzzles, you have the power
To reassemble yourself even after disaster.
Grandpa 26 Dec 2025
Giving zerberts on her tummy and playing piggies to make her laugh.
Running after her and watching to ensure she’s safe in the park.
Assembling and adjusting a child’s artist easle before Christmas.
Never letting her cross the street alone, but going on frequent walks.
Driving her to see farm animals, pumpkin patches and corn mazes.
Playing chopsticks with her on the piano, holding her index fingers.
Allowing Carolina to experience new things as long as they’re safe.
Carolina 26 Dec 2025
Carrying more dollies and toys than a toddler can reasonably hold.
Always in motion, we nicknamed her both tornado and hurricane.
Running or pushing toy baby carriages, strollers and mowers.
Only not quite three, she insists on climbing up the big kids’ slides.
Learning about gardening with Grandpa, and cooking with Grandma.
Interested early in books, but won’t let us read all before turning the pages
Nightly learning to say her prayers with Grandma before going to bed.
Although always exhausting, she is missed when she’s back with her folks.
hearing the word
serenaded
so sweetly
curious
what would become
remember
recognize and wonder
why it is they do not me
a quiet plea
no one turns to engage
subdue babbling dreams
murmur insecure self-esteem
floating suspicious doubt
ebbs and flows
unwholly bones fragmented
never fully assembling
peace
whole
RETHINKING FOUCAULT
Just as a verse comes from verses,
a song comes from songs...
Text comes from texts,
Everything comes from the whole,
nothing is just an extract
of what already exists and has...
Everything is in place... and just copy and paste...
Of course, transforming, assembling
the story to taste...
But the new fact doesn't exist
nothing exists new...
But there is knowledge,
the innate talent!
Archimedes, renowned scientist
exclaimed his Eureka!
upon finding the "solution"
to a complex proof,
in a general field or mathematics...
Later, in a less long-lived stage,
well before the calends
Shakespeare, the theatrical wizard,
confirmed this missing piece for us!
A non-blatant copy of the plagiarism
perpetrated disguised by
his abysmal talent...
Nothing is created, everything is copied
nothing new and so new
the genuine is old, ancient
everything comes from the one!
... ALEA JACTA EST
ready! AND DONE "
Did I ever know that I would be born?
Did I decide my psyche and physique?
Why is a rose shielded by a sharp thorn?
Providence creates each creature unique.
I think of building a castle for me.
I end up assembling a thatched hut.
When I, like a sparrow, wish to be free
An unknown force, from within, keeps me shut.
Untimely rain signs on the summer breeze
Floods and droughts play tragedies unannounced.
Earthquakes shake the inmost shrines of the seas.
Divine verdict is wordlessly pronounced.
Events, like gift foils, wrap my existence.
Existence, in turn, is wrapped by Providence.
order growing complexity flowing
interlacing bonds creating
sl o o o w w w ly assembling
mother nature's love
a seed establishes r
o
o
t
s
shyly extends tendrils ~~~
ignition TEMPERature flashes, nothing left but
ashes
.
.
.
a seed
establishes roots
shyly extends tendrils
KINGDOM COME
The blood runs hot through royal veins
Ready for the throne, and to finally rule
But it has now to be a battle, not a duel
What one pretender loses, another gains
In muddy fields, many lives shall be lost
To raise the standard and claim the prize
Yet it is still kingship but in another guise
It’s a pity the common folk bear the cost
I’ll take the crown and hold up the mace
Assembling all nobles who are true to me
Pledging their loyalty as was meant to be
But some might see suspicion in my face
Ancestral claims should have the final say
This powerful army makes it more certain
Yet I’ll always check behind every curtain
But it first depends on who wins this day
Swirling my eyes around and ‘round
Into a pile of leaves,
I see my assemblage point swirl, too.
I'm looking back at me in a tornado of thoughts
Assembling the ground around below me,
My support system slips
And my conscience falters.
It looks as if the worlds on fire
In this pile of autism Nal autumnal artistry.
The mystical mandala of my mind,
Snatches up my spirit then takes me for a ride
Into the higher levels of consciousness
And some lowers too. I’m dizzy from the delusion.
Illusions on the exclusion of always being present.
And wander aimlessly into some dreamy delirium of nothingness.
I slip into something more comfortable.
Something more manageable.
Something, more me.
LETS TANGO
Nobody said, Let’s go to war
But an invasion, well I never
An Atlantic territory, remote
Who’d respond, they thought
Or perhaps get overwrought
Eight thousand miles by boat
Surely a link one could sever
As we’d not bothered before
For Argentina, a big mistake
The UK was much offended
Assembling ships and troops
Going to recover our islands
Even if it took some violence
To conquer, the Lady stoops
A few months later, it ended
Falklands never theirs to take
Stones in motion
A valley trembling
I see the notion
An ever ending
Has there been rest
It is still pending
When it arrived
I stopped pretending
I take a breath
The sun is shining
The sum of all fears was
My ever lightning
We are just
A lightyear apart
And I feel in my heart
That tomorrow
Brings a new twist
That the old days
No longer endure
I've been there before
This is nothing new
Was there a cure
That we barely knew
The signs they were true
The echos start trembling
The thoughts are assembling
So when we are through
There is a new morning
The ever after
There is wisdom
And there is laughter
So much still hidden
So much we barely know
And what was forbidden
Is now there to show
We have to be patient
A change comes in time
The older they knew
From hard work came grime
I take a breath
The sum of all fears was
A lightyear apart
Now I caress
My ever beating heart
Her mind accumulates
the mechanics of metaphysics.
Pieces of something she is sculpting or
assembling - word-pictures
too intricate to be entirely recalled
upon a whole canvas.
She discovers these figments
on the leeched rim of vision,
where shapes are nameless.
Part of her mind
burns with the light of a kerosene lamp,
the other blazes as bright as a solar flare.
She has been building images,
that can only be truly perceived just once,
then after that,
they are just her writings.
Her mind accumulates
the mechanics of metaphysics.
Pieces of something she is sculpting or
assembling - word-pictures
too intricate to be entirely recalled
upon a whole canvas.
She discovers these figments
on the leeched rim of vision,
where shapes are nameless.
Part of her mind
burns with the light of a kerosene lamp,
the other blazes as bright as a solar flare.
She has been building images,
that can only be truly perceived just once,
then after that,
they are just her writings.
My last wet tears
stain the starlit sky
in cold frosted shades
As tangible fears
awaken sleeping
distant memories
of aged hidden pain
These mortified eyes
don't recall the tales
my children now tell
of my past sad sins
In my dire defence
lasting episodes
of assembling joy
never did escape
parent's cutting lips
A pale memory
fades in present days
I don't remember
teen tornado years
My acts of dark hate
left deep open scars
ones that never healed
I long to rewind
grains of quicksand time
learn the art of love
perhaps forgiveness
will thrive when I’m gone.
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