Antithetical Yawnings

In The Now…

In The Now, Before You Go

Because now, all the holes have been plugged,
and grog is the apiary mind fog.
Little particles of light accumulate on shaped glass
with all glowing dreams a-buzz, a-hum, thriving —

your anticipant soul vibrates, re-arriving
in final sleep, another insect life comfortably snuggles
with flower decay, root and leaf, miracle-color-essence
inhale temporary lives a spectacled boy studied,
unaware death filled one alive with wonder.

Time expanding outside the jar, speeding through
every journey, stem to stem, feeding all of them —
dutiful, courteous, again and again, from season
until fall and return to tender hands again —
unafraid of the bumbling stinger, as last rites read —
and bury diligence retired, adding words of praise.

An eyelid closes you out, sent to perpetual dark,
seeking spirit that resides, that lives!
Wherein life hid, and merry again, a boy at ten.
No ignorance spared, learning, again and again,
flower-investigation, tipping a cap, though
nothing tips back but a crown, nestled in
conjoined green fibers where we laid, warmth of memory —
time with a friend, to the end, was apiary.

Because now, the time to lay it all on a mantle,
groggily bow, know hard work deserves the best rest.


11.27.25/12.2.25/12.15.25
To love you is to know that I knew myself…to say, I knew you a little better by being aware…and with all deepest respect.

I could also note this poem acts to excuse myself to nap amid present company (Thanksgiving, I recall), past dinner, noting I still hear myself, as a wide-eyed boy dismissed, operating in the deficit awe back then. But, counterintuitive, not disrespectfully, I try your tired minds with awe still, bothersome inquisitor, would also like them to understand…it sucks being dismissed.

I have love. No place to put it.

Edited out:

A watery grave will not spin for a yellow friend
who deserves return to the dust of yesterday’s hive,
recall all the days alive until this last one, yet humming.