A Formula for Disparate Contraries (I, II, III)

Written January 2010
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-----------------

I. Measurement

Wage is defined as the value of what we provide.
Yet value, in any circumstance

Can only be measured by adjacent quantifiers.
(many of which trickle down to money

though not always currency). If not defined by oneself
or another, what then?

How parallel is a scale of intrinsical degree?
What is my time, my minutes-hours worth

to me,
as compared to what I am paid?


II. That Addition of Grace

In this world, we are denominators
of those things created

and those things bestowed upon us:
science, religion, art.

We are meant to unite,
yet we strive to be distinguished,

set above, separated. We can succeed
under a common desire for progress,

a common passion for beauty,
through an uncommon measurement of success.

And what has been accomplished
without Grace,

the absence of which creates
a culture of stagnant progression.


III. The Formula

I am to X
as You are to X

creates a cultural imbalance
and injects politics into personal expression.

Instead, I am to X
as You are to Y,

with the addition of Grace ,
creates a formula of social and cultural liberty,

a universal disposition of progress
and empowerment.

Society does not exist to measure greatness,
but rather to engage mediocrity.

Marble Tree

Written June, 2009
Author: Parrish Ravelli
---------------------


I don’t like when doctors on television use the phrase that
“life is failing”.

Mostly because I absolutely refute that his life
will ever be anything but a success.

The hardest part of it all is that he and my grandmother
Are the foundation, the baseline

They are the current proprietors of the name
From which I was born.

It’s kind of like when the boat rocks,
Just after you’ve gotten your footing.

I remember growing up,
Visiting him in anticipation

Of what marbles had fallen
From the worlds only marble tree

That just happen to be
In his back yard.

It’s late June.
The squash flowers explode in the morning

Into what I like to think it looks like
When life is formed.

We finally had our first red sunset here.
The funny thing about time,

I could care less
About where my marbles are today,

But that memory,
I can find anytime I need it.

The Lines In March

Written March, 2009
Author: Parrish Ravelli
------------------------------


There are lines in March
But we still wander.

There are highways
For those who are looking for distance.

Roads
For those looking for a home.

On Highway 41 there are fields
where furrows have been dug

That run into tree lines
That run into tomorrow.

Some fields are cleared
With seeds that have been planted.

On others, there is still the stubble
From last years corn crop

Standing straight with honor, pride
As a veteran infantry

Knowing what they have given
Their life for.

The rows of dogwoods on my street
are filling out.

I can no longer trace
The lines between the branches

That now, run into new buds
That run into tomorrow.

There are lines that are unseen even,
And there is a yield to be had.

Though we may not have seen
This years last frost.

In my mind I know, though we wander
We are not lost.

Why Windows

Written February, 2009
Author: Parrish Ravelli
----------------------------

Sometimes because it's nice
to know the weather

before having to go
outside.

Sometimes to watch the way
the seasons decide to change.

Sometimes simply
to inspire.

But sometimes because, when,
within my view of the window frame

a strong enough gust of wind
blows hard enough

seeming to make everything
in my immediate world move

I cannot help but to feel
that we are all connected.

When I Hear Silence

for Cameron Isabella Collini
Written December, 2007
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-------------------------------------

When I hear silence
I think of what it might sound like
When constellations form

Or how it sounds to wake up
As the world is born.

At night
I hear silence
Between your every heart beat

That radiates love,
That radiates heat.

Your eyes in Winter
Have the heroism of Spring
Rebirth of the Family
With the birth of a baby girl.

When I hear silence
I hear what it means
to have the world created, and all at once
To create the world.

Summertime

Written 2005
Author: Parrish Ravelli
--------------------------

there are books on shelves
with miles between them

with space for my ego to construct itself
just shy of a romantic

there are lines that divide
and run into one another

train tracks, or headlights
just missing each other

to what name do I give a rose
none but that which is its' own

romance

and myself just a spectator
between lines and chapters

sitting on shelves overlooking trains
just missing eachother

These Streets

Written July, 2006
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-----------------------------

the moonlight on 5th street
is blushing

because we just figured out
what it was trying to say

strung out from all those
tearful nights...

there are revolutions
in your eyes

with trails of light
that reach across your face

come le stelle charismatic.

the moonlight on 6th street
is drunk on the concrete

and cannot hide anything.
it snuck into the church on the corner,

through the stained glass,
and spilled out at our feet.

just above we were dancing
with the sense of touch

letting the politicians
talk about tomorrow.

whether or not
these moonlit streets come alive

we will move
with grace rather than sorrow.