Dragonfly

An extra memory
for my sound mind,
the silent dragon flies
benignly by
my side, quiet and still.

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Light

I open the gate
that leads to the future,
and step into Tuesday.
It gets on my shoe.

A littlest bit
of eternalest evening
creeping away
escapes from this poem.
Cryptic as night.

The brightest polyptych
piece I’ve yet seen
sitting on my toilet
depicts me a scene
of one little bow tie.
Broken in one piece.

It flips through the years
like channels online,
slips out of sight,
and of silence.
My fishes have rights.

I won’t write the name
signed by the painter
with the upper right conner
in invisible ink.

Today has just finished.
It truly is Tuesday
scraping my shoelace,
A vision of light.