opthomastic

[opthomastic]

Saturation, 2024

Should the voice of the weeping willow ring true with sweet sorrow; or does its song, discordant, echo a bathos hollow? Must the canopy shroud a once-verdant plain? And could the field, lain fallow, sprout anew once again?

Ask the roots, taste the air, or see what the biome breathes itself. There, we may find answers.

[opthomastic]

Hide & Seek, 2019 & 2025

Hide and watch and wait and see And hope that everything will be Alright okay it's been too long This state this way these lines are drawn Too far too small it's all a blur The things we want the things we were The way this goes it doesn't end It doesn't stop if you pretend We haven't seen or said or heard Or made it through this undeterred Except to wait and watch and see Expects to go that quietly.

. . .

I'd wish it all away, at ease But these are all velleities Tender time with tension taut Always effortlessly bought Scattered art and blue-moon callous House of cards and iron lattice Guess the weight and trust the climb Or hide like hope in every line One day or night or twilight instant Stubborn stains deserve persistence On the cusp of one dawn's peak We wait to watch for what we seek.

[opthomastic]

Indemntification, 2025

the soul's reflection

gives heart to its question

redounded

a truth in transition

equates a procession

unbounded

with realized formation

comes proud exploration

remembered

for defense of diversion

sees indemnification

engendered

[opthomastic]

"It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society." - Jiddu Krishnamurti

[opthomastic]

Constellastory, 2025

A need unheeded leads the leadless forth at speed, believing we've decreed some dots aren't worth connecting; spots neglecting where the next one leads this asterism isn't schismed, limned by glimmers of envisioned tapestries you see who've woven these so overwrought and under siege spread over seas of mirrored stars and hearing ours is no less boundless we can start to chart our way across this dark another spark ignited by a burning heart is no less given to humanity nor can it be extinguished or cut off, an amity emboldened by that very sky oh can we all let go in time to fly and shine without a worry as to why we're here among the fear, but this unhurried pace won't lend an ear to you or I or any other sparkling point of arcing light if dim or bright it sails the air until the unfair ground appears to deafen us to sound and now, if blinded by the sun or sunk into the ocean's undercurrent we endure it all enough to swim and swim and gasp it in – this air it's oxygen we drink to stoke the flame of each ignition kept within us warmth the starstruck all can feel and follow forward joining up with one more soul to step ahead into the dark of night this one star brighter then we might just see that far enough to make a map of this that lasts encompassing a path with compasses for each and every last possible asterism just to give them some idea that a sky alight with constellations means no single star is without part of something greater than it seems

[opthomastic]

Unrisen, 2024

Flying in the dark

one wing all but severed

fire out on the horizon

a promise undelivered

Sailing on by night

compass all but broken

iridescent silver lining

no warning left unspoken

[opthomastic]

Silver & Gold, 2024

A dandelion sun

A dandelion moon

A breath of silver wishes

Across the stars is strewn

[opthomastic]

"Yes, You climbed on the ladder

With the wind in your sails

You came like a comet ☄!

Blazing your trail

Too high, too far, too soon

You saw the whole of the moon..." The Waterboys' song has been my obsession lately. You can thank it for inspiring this piece. Kay "Dotsy" Sinclair, moonchild extraordinaire.

[opthomastic]

"Don't you ever fade away, yeah Until the sunrise..." Took a cool photo of a bar at 5 A.M. and always wanted to do something with it. This Sapphire person's the type to hang out there, anyhow.

[opthomastic]

Ballasting, 2024

Don't forget: it's in your right pocket

took a guess; I could cut it out

no strings attached and nothing but elastic

a portion of my heart is what it's all about

A mirror's no reflection if the image isn't flipped

but the light I'm seeing turned my way sounds resonant

and clipped

the short of it—the long of it

has taken me on quite a trip

And six feet up, I've fallen flat

but now she's begging for a hit

of one bad dream and one episode

this series couldn't last a year

I guess that weight's a lighter load

I guess the meaning's crystal clear

Nobody's Buddha; her golden eyes

surprising no-one, I wait to rise

an artist is an artist's sin

come back around, around again

and up in smoke, the twisting rocket

sees the distant ground begin

to fade���to grow—to then narrow

a ball becoming just a dot

it holds my heart but might explode

before anyone's breath is caught

Trajectories only time will tell

the dragon's breathing fire there

where I'm landing in the wishing well

while up above and everywhere

the clear blue sky sees another rocket

Damn—what was it in my right pocket?

[opthomastic]

Recognito, 2024

When neither of our gazes stray

and all the games we thought we'd play

deprived of pretense, fall away

would we then understand?

And while the eye refuses rest

it stands to reason, rhyme and test

that for this once, this time it's best

we watch the second hand.

[opthomastic]

Afloat, 2024

We cannot swim to the bottom without holding our breath.

Nor can we surface again whilst taking it.

To try, then, must be to breathe underwater.

[opthomastic]

Reckondite, 2024

Who does as they please / is wrecking, with ease

to justify these / to reckon with ease

Easier said / than done in one's head

they see your life led / to a gun to the head

Instead of who'd beckon / another who'd reckon

one comfortable second / with which we've not reckoned.

And end over end / priorities mend

the reasons they bend / the means made amends

[opthomastic]

"Another stop sign, another headline Another broken song..."

Percival Belian, with stars in his eyes. Completing the triptych with Golden Dandelion and Red Cross.

[opthomastic]

Theocracythe, 2024

A corpse the maggots find too dead tasteless and jejune

The crickets all applaud red-handed discordant, out of tune

Deaf to any god worth hearing playing one's own game

Reaping, credenda and precepts and chaff from spoilt grain

[opthomastic]

Venus Sun, 2024

paralysis the doe immolated alight no words for the victim no cries heard no end to the road bloodstain dragged along touts another stretch of pavement ever advocated first instead and despite every red painting, every stained antler grasping the sharp

poignant

point

that roads aim where they plan to maintained with intentions while each second, a rapture must be no less detour than destination

[opthomastic]

"How lovely you glow In the flame of error..." Mark Shumba, in accustomed reverie. Twin to Red Cross.