Here, Silent Disappearance
The V of the mid-flight hawk extended
farther than the feathers’ soft touch visually verified.
Their piercing brown, paint brush
silhouettes touched hundreds of feet below
their ornamental slide.
Its shadow was a song, ballad, slow-motion
gratitude of gliding lyrics near the orchestrated
stillness of jade’s lake’s aching crawl.
After carving circles of circumstantial shape
into crevices of pacified air, hawk drifted into
the coat sleeve of horizon, disappearing in a
slight stutter of blinking aberration.
If the Amethyst Became Animated
The purple was a bruise’s skin tone,
beautifully worn, unlike the physical
aspects of the body’s wearing dents, uncollected healing.
The purple was a gallinule.
Its truncated flight
among an air of foggy skin, landed its
dangling legs near the ebony shine of a
shadow’s constant cooling.
Skimming a lake’s sanctuary, swimming
amid its shallow breaths of exhaling ripples,
the purple rubbed itself clean
much aware of the eyes’ copacetic focus
and clarity of beautified pinions readying
to ascend.
Scene of Synonyms for Absence
Little black ants marched and drew
chaos atop dirt’s elevated footprints.
Prints from an italicized apparition.
Nearby, a leaning statue of razor-thin
grass, unmoved by the wind’s uncommon absence.
Near organic bark of an obsolete fruit tree,
the little black ants climbed the thigh
of the tree’s quiet posing, disappearing
beneath its skirt of green-golden leaves.
ARISTOTLE SINCLAIR is a poet of neoteric contemplation. He reads Duane Locke and Constance Stadler to ascertain excellent poetry. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming at Writer’s Bloc, The Catalonian Review, Writing Raw, The Legendary, and several other kind places. He has a mini-chapbook published “Within the Open Eyes” (Gold Wake Press, 2009). In the rarity of spare time, he reads various texts and quotations from philosophers, and thinks Thelonious Monk is the epitome of a jazz genius. He records occurrences at http://aristotlesinclair.blogspot.com/.
