WORDS NUMBERS MUSIC

I can leave this plane at any time
Into a system of words
To play, be entertained
Arranging words until
Sometimes a truth
The words already knew
Is displayed to me
Yes, displayed in words
As if the plane of words
Had its own superior ancient consciousness.

I see at once with this realization
The natural tendency for others
To leave this plane also
There are two other similar planes
With their own innate
Intelligence seemingly waiting for us
To arrange things in a way
That we discover answers and patterns
Displayed before us in the language
Of each other similar plane
These other planes are numbers and music

So are words, numbers and music expressed
In characters so that we can more easily
With words numbers and notes
Play in realms of intelligence
Infinite in scope yet orderly in composition
So that we may replay favorite knowns
And discover any number of unknowns
At our leisure without a fee
As a standard benefit of being human?

-Kelly Voelker

Church as a Catch Pen

What I learned from the bi bull?
A question I asked
Alone I was puzzled
A simple enough task

Nothing . . . the answer
Oh wait there's one thing
The adults in my village
Are not intelligent or
Sensitive enough to feel
Or express that it means
Less than nothing
In their lives. . . to be real.

A peer pressured guilt
Or shame to admit
Fences them in
With an open gate.

-Notes to sELF

Catch Pen - The catch pen is an area where the cattle can easily be gathered and sorted. ... Each catch pen should be large enough to provide approximately 18 square feet per animal. The crowding pen, often referred to as the tub, directs cattle from the catch pen and funnels them into the alley.

Dutiful Work Shrine

This morning brings
The need to reinvent
My mind creates
Wonderful decorations
For all I have
For all I am is a place
To hang beautiful things
Yet as a human in form
I create myself as cool brown
Creamy beige and my eyes
Cannot decide what color to reflect
Even with all the power of
Morning's full light range
I cannot stop shifting and adjusting
To meet the need of the day
Or my shifting thoughts
Once landing for a moment
Are thankful for my shelter
Yet yearn for the next location
Away from the dutiful shrine
Of this little work town.

-Kelly Voelker

End of Summer

The end of season
Push subsides
Harvest, savor, put aside
Enjoy the yield
From heat and sun
Put up feet
Let coast don't run
Walk in alignment
Through the lull
Between the weather
Cycle's done.

-Kelly Voelker

Reluctant to Move

The breeze was moist
With a lingering cling to it
Hanging onto  skin and fabric
As if it was reluctant to move

The clouds wouldn't abandon me
Leaving me for the relentless sun
They insulated my thoughts
With a gentler degree of light

I received four gifts
In random locations as rewards
For performing chores
Coffee, a ripened tomato,
A bistro set and a folding table

The cricket's ringing
Surrounding me with
A welcome frequency
Until a loud machine
Slowly passed by
Cutting nature steadily
As a diluting obscenity

These were the day's highlights
At a place without progression
Where time is as reluctant to move
As the humid summer air
A flashy swallowtail passed
Seeming to know where to go and when
Much more than I do now and then.

-Kelly Voelker