Gary Glauber writes

Wheel

The identical waves are an illusion;

each has its own specific order here:

crashing, foaming, spraying, dissipating.

One and done.

The maypole is under ground,

bound by a futures contract
for one day of eventual freedom

before this crazy world implodes.

Watch as composting compulsion

breaks it all down in time, but soft 

the stars still do their supernova shuffle

and we think we’re somehow better than that.

The naiveté unravels
the binding, unwinding
ancient glories to ruins.
As wonders crumble, gold tarnishes,

reminding how nothing lasts forever. 

Gary Glauber writes

Tumbler

The shadows are a crazy trick of the light;

a flicker of action plays against the screen.

This is his genius, his pushing boundaries

of visual media, hat swapped for smile,

a matter of perfect placement. The future

has nothing on him, existing beyond time.

We share a secret smile of admiration,

the silent sacrament of understanding how

this little man can light up one’s heavy heart.

Pulcinella and the Tumblers -- Giovanni Battista Tiepolo

Gary Glauber writes

Gravity of Light

At its core, it is a simple life.

Yet there are comfort rewards,

bed sheets of fine organic cotton,

a vista of snow-covered trees.

Things pleasing to the senses,

new perspective years provide:

adventures of appreciation,

actions of subdued reflection. 

Swirling winds like memories

create drifts of clarity,

a reverse clairvoyance

in quietude of prayer.

Essential moments of

personal significance shared

mean less to others, but passion

spreads light regardless,

a magnetized true north.

Pondering the mutual

punishments and exploits

keeps one awake nights

or serves as soundtrack

to very vivid dreams.

Earthly Paradise -- Pierre Bonnard