The New Renaissance Mindset

The dandelion keeps time with the wind —a bright clock with its hands undone,a paper moon that peels itself apart:each seed a tiny bell, a hush that falls. They lift like hushes in a narrow sky,parachutes stitched of down and air,spinning away from the hollowed crownto write new margins on the field below. What remains … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – Blowing Away, v.3

The dandelion — a yellow clock wound down,a pale globe drifting on the wind.Its seeds, small hushes with parachutes,spin off on invisible ropes. The bloom has emptied; gold loosened into air,a lace of stems in autumn’s thin light.Yet in that unbuttoning it plants insistence —a promise of soft landings, of green. We watch the white … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – Blowing Away, v.2

Dried pods cradle the late light,milkweed moons pinned to brittle twigs,paper lungs folded against the throatof a sky that holds its breath. Morning comes in a hush of wings —or perhaps it comes as patience breaking,a single seam unzipping: crack,the soft percussion of seed and silk. Then a small weather rises, a tremorof white, a … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – Avian Essence, v.3. (a lyrical reimagining)

Dried milkweed hangheavy on brittle branches,pods held like closed handsagainst a hush of sky. Then a seam gives — papery crack,a scatter: white skeins lift,not birds yet, but small weather,each seed a flake of wing. The twigs empty their maps;air fills with soft insistence.What looked like husk becomes migration,a sudden translation of the ordinary. Leave … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – Avian Essence, v.2

The frame holds a tipped crate,its lip offering up colour —ochre, rust, lichen-green —a spill arranged by gravity, not grace. Each gourd is rendered patiently:thick ribs catching light,warted skins stippled like dry brushpressed into stubborn canvas. Shadow pools beneath them,cool blues cupping warm bellies,edges softened where the eye rests too long,sharpened where a knife of … Continue reading Revisionist Poetry – Autumn’s Fruit, v.4 (ekphrastic reworking for painters)