by the skins of teeth
as time goes by
or on
more things become challenged
like
the center that can hold
no longer
as Yeats claims in a work and
Achebe citing Yeats a while after on
as
Achebe’s own
the challenged become challenges
which might be natural
though sets of
connotations
they
go negative
burdens to change
and burdens are
bad
so challenges should be avoidable
like
those
in the veneered way we eschew
anything above
below the line
I will say this for
barriers
that they might not be favorable
except as they announce
and
protect things
here
and there
great things
such as reefs of coral
as well as certain boundaries in outer space
needed
to sign
in here it is distinctive as community
there is a major purpose
whereas
cosmic diversity should be made
of these discretions
identity
vital
and then to know another’s
therefore
and shall we say for proof
that
challenges and barriers
are set
even haphazardly by the fixed math
randomness
and
the beneath-our-skin appreciation of chaos
let age make these keen
as in
more knowable
the things we understand and
things to do
that we know better now for
having looked at them
so normally
over
at last
enough time
to know dimensions and their purpose
and at long last
to know
how to apply the passwords
on stones
or in
skies so very long
as if the clues had been there from the start
as when something is
when something’s made
the truth of its reality
is there
is here
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The Skin Our of Teeth is the title of a play by Thornton Wilder, the title taken from the phrase first given in the Bible, Job 19:20
“Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold” is from “The Second Coming,” a poem by W. B. Yeats; later, Things Fall Apart was taken for the title of a novel by Chinua Achebe
here is a note I first wrote for myself about the poem (above): there is the failing in our efforts because we need things normal, regular; differences, then, along with diversity become challenges with challenges themselves as negative for being difficult—or maybe only different; but differences, challenges, barriers are all parts in creation and existence; and we would serve all these and ourselves better if we made positive allowances for these vital parts of what there is and who we are and what we have (and what we have to do)
photo by NASA Hubble Space Telescope on Unsplash
(isn't it symmetrical; isn't it asymmetrical)
Saturday haiku
the weekend adds up week’s leaves
rake and then jump in
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photo by Diogo Nunes on Unsplash
2 poems about perspectives (and prompts)
anyone by Tennyson
(reflecting on “Ulysses”)
and if
Ulysses leaves
then
something wrong in Ithaca
something rotten
like the other precedence
to say
maybe his administration by which
his parting
will take the ill with him
and
shall we be ruled
then
by Penelope
who knows how to weave and
keep
the promise
loyal as all promises
are pledges
in
themselves
and so security humanity
in adventures bearing truth
and
at home
bearing love
reliably
secure
the place for that pursuit of happiness
also from the Greeks
to know
and so by wandering and settling
to have
yet
do not settle
say Ulysses and the followers
though
yet there must be a place
of ours
enacts Penelope
and
shall Telemachus serve as medium between
the parents
and the warring notions
of the heart
and will
battle well
the main place
the parts
where battle matters
“Ulysses,” a poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, published originally in 1834
the ray
these
things that Bing promotes
the rays that fly through water
by Galapagos
they swim
they point the way they’ve gone
to mark the way
for what should follow
also
to defend
and promise that through the long black
point
that each possesses
and they do all of this
these creatures
and
the species
thousands of miles from here
though there are analogues
closer in
the beings have a mind
but no mind about this
they
do not move aware
of us
as we think we should be observed
and
recognized
rather
they move in life
and life
is what they know
both need and celebration driving
which is all to strive
against
our vanities
a lesson in moving existence
in all
“spotted eagle rays in the Galápagos Islands”
presented by Bing/Microsoft (Tui de Roy/Minden Pictures)
homepage 8/15/25
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photo by Maksim Shutov on Unsplash
Lisbon Oceanarium, Esplanada Dom Carlos I, Lisbon, Portugal
like the psalmist foe-surrounded
poverty
or
surfeit
which we find by the world
by the devil
have betrayed us
what is left
despite the industries
I
do not know
and
who shall help me
say
with parameters
to break them as I can’t
while I invest my energy instead
on
what I thought I had back then
and didn’t
though I keep going back to
find
and then fix everything
to break the barriers
as bars
not with energy
deserved
but
with the strength shared me
resources to
freedom
by grace that
is
the merit going
graciously
unasked
yet
to be caught
and looped
and unbelieving and still
asking
too often without listening
of
who shall help with the problems
I can’t
breathe through
who shall help me more than
I know how to ask
then
so by asking
once
in forever
though there are the stories
delivered
by
Reverend Henderson
in
sermons and who knows
what anthology from which
came
the accounts
regardless
of the people in a raft
having survived
the wreck
maybe abandoned for another
reason
and what they know
all they know is ocean all around
until
the rescuers
arrive
then tell survivors that
for temerity
or
the lack
they could have reached
down and
drunk at anytime
for they were in the great
releasing of fresh water by the unseen
Amazon
too far the given land
on either side
to spy
or of the woman who had won
a trip
a cruise
(that
did not wreck)
and she was poor
and so ate crackers in her stateroom
for her meals
until
one day the captain should find her
to say
the meals were included in the prize
you should have been dining at
my table
every night
sufficiency
and then amazed abundance
without
question of deserving
to drink fresh water
to
dine with the captain
of the sound
ship
questing all the time
so try
but do not condemn oneself for merit
not canceled but
fulfilled
by grace
that
reminds us
even takes us to salvation
so that the last thing we might worry
over
might be perfection
or to have lost everything by
failing
when like water
like
the feast close by
before us
are set
yes
there is a judgment
and each time for each one
a mercy
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(Reverend Henderson was the preacher whose messages I received in church while I was a child)
photo by Claudio Schwarz on Unsplash
the tiniest of plagues
(part 3)
exhale
there is a new mattress
I have to wait until it bubbles out
or whatever
so I use the mildewed couch
until
I’m free to have it
taken out as
well
and then what
some
bedding
hopefully
unmildewed
and
I hope that I can still tell
and then to spray the room
consider anything
else
infected
wait for a dry day maybe with
a breeze
and
then shall I use the studio again
unsmelling
save
for Febreze and Lysol
more or
now and then
and
otherwise
the air we know
that all of us should know
without
cordite
or sickness
or the uselessness in smelling
anyway
for lack of food
lest scent become a mirage
for life
and by the way
my eyes
should clear
our eyes should clear
clc
photo by D koi on Unsplash
campaign in the studio
spray
layer
spray
layer
spray the room again
is it chemicals or mildew I’m inhaling
while
of course
you know
it’s both
new mattress
new sofa must follow
musty curtains down
as if light and breeze had been let in
at Ms Faversham’s feast
breathe
changes
though the must continues
to permeate
room
nose
clothes
well
keep trying
I’ll take retroactive
the air when it was only
dirty
I suppose a northern autumn
shall help when
it arrives
with clear cold to push through windows
in
a current
now it’s steamy
not good
for dry
and certainly not cool
except for how you might behave
cool
Daddio
clc
photo by Gabriella Clare Marino on Unsplash
but it hurts
ouch
I breathe in discomfort
ouch
my muscles ache
but first
and more
all the apparatus deep inside
it is
sickness
it is infection
there might be solutions coming
clc
(sorry, it’s what I’m dealing with right now; I write as I can and read very little, sorry again)
photo by National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases on Unsplash
the formation of the blues
blue
green lights
that indicate the coffeemaker’s
waiting
where am I
debating bittersweet
maybe bitter like the smell
of mildew
or of certain herbs
sweet
as chocolate or
plain sugar from the bag
in consideration of the snack my
mother got
now and then
of
a sandwich with butter and sugar from
a sack
in the house
on the farm
the kind with after-rain
and the wheelbarrow that so much
depends
on
while the mother of my mother worked
in
a field
and that’s the lonely photograph
with very little spoken
for the story
to us
in the suburbs
where we could have learned
more than
minimal
of
hardship
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photo by Steve Busch on Unsplash
a kind of reference to “The Red Wheelbarrow” by William Carlos Williams
ripe mildew and mold
how to clean the room of these
requires owned know-how
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photo by roland deason on Unsplash
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