Fracture 9 - Silence
A single hair
Watching in the mirror.
Held breath, swings
slightly alone not
disturbing others that
The mirror now clear,
only a face in white robe.
The terrycloth collar soft
on the graying beard.
Black rope necklace sags
between breast bones,
the dog tags smooth and tarnished,
the name fading.
Fracture 8 – Fractured Mind
In a dream
splattered black on white
the soiled snow just fallen
covering the fields
putting to sleep the gray big bluestem.
What is a dream?
The moments already lived,
a preview of moments,
an existence already set to paper
your blood born and dissipated.
Entering the wood-floored room
mauve drapes slightly cover
mahogany trimmed windows,
the polished brass door handles.
Windows ajar allow the lilacs to enter,
the cool wind cleansing, discarding the memory,
the memory seared, the memory of what?
White petals fall from the sky
drifting upon the winds’ hands.
Over time the memory is forgotten
and the dark corner of the mind starts anew.
Over time the white petals will
put to sleep what we forget
and no one else will know.
in the name of…
the tapestries swirl
as the wind howls
eyes closed the cross-legged
being does not move.
the tall red oak door on
antique brass hinges slams shut.
white paper with black ink
scatter from the desk.
stained pine bookshelves line two walls
from floor to ceiling.
the wind reaches each corner
underneath the shelves
through the books
and each cover opens
the paper flutters and
each word, each letter
upon each page spills onto
the floor, swirling into a
circle surrounding the being
and they rise encasing the being
within chaotic structures and thoughts
and with the wave of a hand the movement
the being turns slowly
in every direction, appearing to analyze
the letters and the pattern within which they stopped.
the tiger-wood floor begins to vibrate
light emerges from between the planks.
stillness returns as light replaces wood
and the being is floating upon light.
in a blur delicate fingers from elongated arms
point at letters dragging them to an empty space
words begin to form into paragraphs and pages
and at last the book of Nothing is created.
All rights reserved to William Ricci