fill it up with mortar

any hole is a window
every wall is a door
all the ceilings are hovering
over all of the floors

all the windows are holes
every door can be a wall
the floors are foundations
or else the ceilings would fall

when the walls have no doors
the windows will replace
the floors provide catapult
and the ceilings give space

the walls are all stilts
so the ceilings can stand
and floors are the base,
the doorknobs are hands

windows opaque
door for the light
ceilings are clear
floors rise flights

the door can contain
windows cannot
floors mirror the roof
ceilings are proof

wall us in
window spin
door ajar
ceiling scar

in which doors are walking
reflections of ceiling tiles
silver like the floor
windows cracking smiles

The Busted Window

The window shattered. Jack's rocking chair teetered as invisible shards of glass nestled into the calloused balls of his feet. A shake or two revived his limbs enough for a curious wobble to the now breezy hallway. He glanced left. He looked toward the entryway and remembered who used to stand there. And the same old longing returned.

"Why do I always smell vanilla when I think of her?" he asked himself with a whisper. Scampering to avoid the shards of glass that lay defeated on the ground below, he moved toward the utility closet in the hallway where he knew cleaning supplies soundly slept. It was there, resting at the bottom of the door, that he discovered what had caused this shattered imagery of reflected light and hardwood.

It must have been hurled pretty hard to have ended up here, he thought with a curious sigh.

By the time every invading shard was removed from his hospital-clean floor, the room had grown stiff with the chill of late fall. He silently moved his slippered feet back to the closet and with his aged hands picked up the small, hard object on the floor. Despite it's metallic exterior, he had no trouble lifting it. There was a warmth emanating from it's depths, reminiscent of the child once nestled in his lover's womb.

Suddenly, the object began to hum and increase in warmth. Jack dropped it and watched it roll down the hardwood floor until it stopped underneath a table in the corner of the room. It was dark below the mahogany surfaces, but he could feel the vibrations quickly dismantling the calm. The doorway - so it seemed - was the safest place to go. But to run would be cowardice. He knew what he must do...

He cautiously approached the corner of the room, noting that a quick exit was possible through both the kitchen and the hallway. With the poker from the fireplace, he lightly tapped the humming orb.

Nothing Happened.

He tapped again.

"What a crappy mini alien space ship THIS is!" he jeered. He kicked it out the door, down the steps and into the old paint-chipped dog house that was once home to Sparky, the bilingual nomadic dog.

oil mist elimination

argyle scarf, khaki pants and socks
soggy on the floor like deliquescence of ice (MM)
like a conquered chrysalis it lay
want only to be locked in a display case, set on velvet cushions (GS)

...and moistness wasn't the issue
though they had both just been in the river (MM)
- Baptized so that sins may be forgiven
for they eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil - (GS)

Good being the before,
Evil being the 'side effects' (MM)
of memory's failure to grab each moment's subtle form
of a metamorphosis, told in time (GS)

And the second she got in bed she thought,
"Is this moment supposed to rhyme?" (mm)
"or have context, plot, or meaning affixed?"
"I can't even say deliquescence without having a lisp." (gs)

romance seems so old when naked skin
can't even shoo away the words (mm?)
A pregnant pause rings louder - wait
for silence beckons you to come. (gs)

All of the thoughts that buzz above
refract sunlight from the heavens - divine (AA)
though feet are scorched seeking water
on reddening fragmented shells and limestone. (O'R)