Matched

I see them.
The two mismatched,
who are matched.
He, the shaggy,
craggy "man mountain"
or "gentle giant".
Now smiling at
the conversation
with the academic,
thin and pale.
Wielder of stiletto questions
"Who says?" and "So what?",
now actually laughing,
as though her
summer dress has
floated her to
some sunlit field.
Then I see that
his shirt is the same
green as the dress.
And their sandals are the same style,
and that when they laugh,
they look at each other.
So it is me who does
not belong and
I am the looker-on.
And this is good.

My poem at Poetry24

Is here

Ribboned

Blue ribbon of light,
in a white space.
Twisting and rippling.
Turning and shifting.
White light spots
spark along the length,
pin-pointing
reactions
losing and gaining,
taking and giving.
A soft rustling is heard
as the ribbons flutter,
and energy is created
or destroyed.
Each of them is different
but all  the blue ribbons
undulating
in the white light
are hiding their meaning
in plain sight.

Reading Frame

A reading frame is
a rectangle of space
outlined in plastic tubes,
which helps children learn
to read by making them
concentrate on the words
inside the frame.
Avoiding the
distractions
of the bigger story.
I think that this is how
I live my life,
seeing the small segments
inside the frame
and not seeing the whole story.
Which also means
that I do not get involved
in this life as much as others do,
and finding a unifying thread is hard.
It is small segments joined together
to me, and the
narrative is
secondary to just getting through
the current space.