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 16h
renseksderf
"The Empire‐Skeptic and History Class"

Your Aeneas builds an empire
on exile and sorrow—what of the cities
he conquers, the peoples displaced?

Transformation has a cost.
By glorifying his ‘spark,’
we risk overlooking the suffering
ignited in his wake.
to be taken with a grain of salt and if not possible be a duck as the water cascades of its back...
 16h
renseksderf
"first bruise"

Streetlamps flicker,  
echoing their silence.  
The chill—  
not just in the air,  
but between glances  

that once burned.  

Footsteps dissolve  
into memory's fog,  
while love  
learns its first  
bruise.
Flowers outside the schoolroom grew bigger and brighter of their own volition. " Alice, Alice !" the teacher called.  All she saw was a saucer eyed girl sitting,  staring out the window. Sober as a Deacon she sat there with her mind blow-stitched to the earth.  Fireworks burst in the sky as a big purple blubber bounced out "Alice, Alice" ssssssssss was the sound it made as it  cupped out O with a sticky jelly mouth.  
he was from outer space
unlike her own race
he was soooo, gooey gooey!!!
A slight change in atmosphere and suddenly Alice fell topsy-turvy into a dark hole.  Exotic energy clung to her as she spun out of control and dropped into an inter-stellar tunnel filled with brilliant stars. Faster than the speed of light she travelled into a non existent wormhole.  A sweet little paper plate with eyes, nose and mouth greeted her on the other side. He spoke the infographics of his knowledge to her, sending shock waves of pleasure to her extra-sensory perception with telepathic communication;    
Lost in gravity waves  
time dilation ...  
She arrived safely.
Oh the flowers, the flowers were everywhere! Each specific tessitura sang to her in baritone, soprano, mezzo soprano and tenor.  It was an elevation of the highest senses.  Through vertical angles the sound was outsourced, so she listened with continuum " Alice, Alice " is what they sang in chorus.  She tried to determine where the melody was coming from but deep down she knew that this heavenly music was an extension of her and them.  Oh what a sweet tonality it was, both subdued and energetic at the same time. As the galaxies split, the tidal forces merged together and suddenly it made no difference where she was or how she got there. All she knew was she was finally home !
"The Meagre String"

In a dusty corner
the final string trembles—
a solitary note aching
                   to become a verse.

It breathes its solitude
                  
                  into splintered wood,
praying its fragment of promise
                   still sounds sacred,
even missing the choir’s embrace.





.
Christ or dollars
I'm on my knees
cross or stud collars
but only if I please.

I need redemption,
successful lobotomy.
Am I the exception
or Rose Kennedy?
Sputters in the thick of night
setting the pathway ablaze!  
Flavors of foretimes return
bittersweet as my spirit;
A street lamp pours out sweetly,  
upon my shoulders of bare.
Recalling honey-dew words
I weep, ...bitter tears for you.
The moon
lifts its bright cloak
high in the sky,

unraveling time’s knots
without a sound, and
the wind pours whispers
into yearning,

weaving
its swift wakefulness
through the night.





.
Español

La luna
alza su manto
claro en el cielo,

deshilacha los nudos
del tiempo sin ruido,
y el viento derrama
susurros al hastío,

bordando
en la noche
su ágil desvelo.





.
Here at our rooftop, collegiate, ‘resort of the mind,’
an early heatwave has struck - we’ve been advised.
Like we needed it. It’s 94°f and climbing - we’re not insensitive.
We’re aware that the sun is bright and the air is crisp and hot.
It was Friday morning, until the sun pointed to noon.

Nothing’s going to stop the summer swelter except thunder storms - which are on their way - we’ve been advised.
A seasonable tempest is being piped-up from the sea.
Like we needed it. We can see the far horizon’s shadowed billows and curtains of rain - we feel the changing wind.

But we have every reason to be cheery, forewarned as we are,
here at the pool, in the still needed shade, armed with margaritas.
The weather may change, the season alter, but we will, unaltered, remain.

We seem to have captured a moment of buz. People are swinging-by, dropping-in, bringing drinks and party snacks then lurking by the pool.

Fridays are 'sui generis'—magical—because they play tricks with time. Dreary weekday landscapes seem to transform, as the old week wanes and ‘the pert and nimble spirit of mirth awakens.’
(A purposeful Shakespeare misquote).
.
.
Songs for this:
Heat Wave by Linda Ronstadt
Heatwave by Bronski Beat
Heat wave - Bing Crosby
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 07/25/25:
Sui generis = something unique, or in a class or group of its own.

I have a (FaceTime) Med School interview with John’s Hopkins on Monday!!
I'm duper-nervous.
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