Anthill

Anthill

On a school field trip to Cypress Hills I veered off from the group and did my own thing for a bit.
There was an anthill.
The activity around it, and one would assume, within, seemed quite in order.
So I kicked it.
Immediately, a frantic re-organization was apace. Much more carefully orchestrated than the activity of my own dawdling elementary-school friends, traipsing off to gather polliwogs or whatever was next on the agenda, the leader mumbling instructions --
Here at boot-level was a three-alarm disaster.
Very… localized.
Without even believing in anything, I felt like Satan, and bent low.
To examine my creation.
What could I even do about it? Jesus Christ.
There's going to be some needed re-building here.

A lot of decades have passed from then until now. Half an earthly lifetime.
But I cannot help but wonder… what if the believers are right?
What if everything started out pretty good, until some idiot came by, and all hell broke loose.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2014 --

Who Is Darker?

Who Is Darker?

Bright would have no meaning without sun.
Twist the blinds though -- slants appear.
Playing on the floor.
Shadow.
With no light overhead? -- impossible.
Everything is about angle. Emphasis.

So -- I do not discount our brightness.
It was all it should be, if not solar --
Definitely moonlike.
Tide-causing and wonderful.
The very stuff of poetry.

Guilty. I employed a friend of yours to ask it.
And from behind a wall, I listened.
With eyes closed -- the piercing truth, blinding.
This was noonday for me, darling.

You may quote Shakespeare's Et tu, Brute?
But I will be Guiderias:
Feare no more the heat o' th' Sun.

And before you squint again, or convulse --
Ask yourself, which of us -- who?

What is the answer, atop these words?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2014 --

Rain Clouds

Rain Clouds

A lot of what we have been amounts to a downpour.
The unthought need of an umbrella. Cancelled games.
Wet socks. The fantasy of a fire in the place. Hot coffee.
A cat waking to stretch and catch us kissing. Fantasy.

If we are to speak in extremes - who dreams of deserts?
Unrelenting sun, and the last oasis just another mirage.
Camels panting. Rain means tomatoes in the sandwich.
I would not trade anything for the troubles we have had

-- with love.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2014 --

To A Moth In Mexico

To A Moth In Mexico

The party dwindled, trickled, and last to leave
I walked to the top of a hillside gazebo alone.
Crickets, and the lower half of a moon aglow.

Waves crested down below, spilling on rocks
that heard them before the first ear on a head.
And a moth thought to fling itself on lamplight.

I watched it circle and flit. Drawn to anything
other than the night, I suppose. I wondered:
Is it the first time you have done this, Moth?

Do you find it disappointing that this Being...
this last resort of hope or promise of reward
proves in the end to be nothing more than
darkness illuminated? First night in the world?

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2014 --