I see it I see your star Mirroring the universe Eyes to eyes Moment to moment And I can feel its heat rising On this dark windy shore Against my naked skin It draws a sinewy cord It erases the ambiguity Redirecting Reconnecting.
It pisses me off That I cannot find my way to anger You know, screaming and cursing Throwing and blowing Off steam and venting a bit of loathing, Found in all its familiar forms, And that instead my default mode Is forgiveness and understanding ala mode, Not that these don’t have their place In civilized society But I’m not sure this is where this game Is being played today.
And isn’t anger a wholly owned subsidiary Of pain? It’s listed on the misfortune 500… And pain I have Holy Jebus Which by the way also pissing me off Mainly because I am taking the blame For bringing it upon myself The sins of the my world, When sometimes isn’t it your turn to step up Take your cuts And walk back to life’s dugout head hanging Strike three, you’re out?
“We have to talk” Is often the prelude to unpleasantness The kind that will lurch inside Splashing about in some gut level wave of adrenaline With a chaser of dread A whirlpool feeling that might have kept our ancestors alive Girded them against assault by flesh and blood monsters But now squeezes the lungs so tight Throttling the breath Gyrating the mind…
The phrase itself is enough And the message beyond is Not likely even a
talk But more like a declaration with no real chance For a Q and A…
And so is bad news in small doses a superior End, a slow poison, the thousand cuts Or is it better to stand with no way to brace against The unsuspected blow A wall of words slamming me?
I am underwater And wishing for the fire next time.
I will do
what I can and maybe a bit more To take care
of this world that I am a strand of To give and
respect and return and pass on. I have found
this way in the wisdom that it offers And it seems
that I have been created to know some of it And be part
of it Free for the
taking. Part of this
wisdom is that we have each other To give to
in compassion To respect
in justice To return to
in kindness and love To pass on to
in our every day By spreading
a handful of seeds And holding
a handful of each other.
It has rained over the past day Gentle then hard then gentle And in joyous gratitude The grass and orchids and ferns Have drunk in these delirious draughts While riding on the waves From a nearby star High over head Mid-May. Life leaps in this green orgy Embracing itself Unembarrassed. It’s what it does.
The wet yellow dog Stops to share a pet Showing scars about her eye Lessons she has likely forgotten Being of the big-hearted short-memoried bred Long on grace and beauty and play But not so much on dog-social intelligence Someday she will be bitten again As we cheer her spirit and Pity it too.
These things we share On this day of spats and dogs.
You did not live long enough
David To see today’s fog It flew in on gust off the ocean, Nor did you see much of anything
after 1967 You died as a marine in a foreign
war Doing your duty to God and country Like we were raised back home Back then. I lived on; even to see this fog
tempest Because something (someone) Spoke to me Differently Was it Mom, Jesus, or innate
common sense That it made no sense, that war Any war? So people helped me, fortunately They knew that my sense of
morality Was valid, as important as any
god or country And I resisted in my own way Did not go Did not kill Did not come home Damaged… I lived to find A peaceful way.
The broom lies against the chair Standing upright, slender with a short straw skirt Waiting as if there would be a dance And though there was music No one swept her off of her feet last night. It is said that he was a mother’s day present Arriving a day early And now sixty on this damp morning after He lingers and reviews. It is a sweet emptiness
when friends come and Celebrate and then depart Leaving their detritus of empty bottles And failing balloons.
It rained on the party, not a sad thing here But we have been lulled into a dry spell And so somewhat surprised it came and Now quenched all with a heavy shower That made pink frosting slump And strangers stand close together. If they had lingered They too would be poking at the morning after coals Of the fire Still smoldering.
Rain water fills the barrels
Thank you, it’s a nice system
Bodies are softly washed From those barrels, And later dishes. A honey bee comes by the dishpan Droning in for a drink And when satiated She flies about a bit In expanding loops Saluting her good fortune too.
The cat needed a double-nudge But he eventually moved out of My spot. I am the Beta brother here So I get a good seat Which is fine, The cat is somewhat further down the alphabet He left me with a warn spot to sit on a cool morning… I am grateful for these creature comforts. The chair itself looks to be on the downside of passing
through Nothing new We are all on temporary assignment Sometimes at a port in the storm Sometimes as a portal upon wonder. It is advised to change speeds occasionally; Slow down to see the micro-verse Before speeding on into the cosmos Journeying onward with all our brethren To a different place Alpha and Omega.
You put me in your box And so here I am. I will not call it living For life is hope and I have none. If I care to, which is seldom, I can trace back the events that Put me here A chain of events forged in war, At which I am at the end. It can be a short length or long A simple link or two Wrought of greed, and fear, Perhaps there is a strong link of hatred... Yes, these are strong bonds and common That imprison both you and me, Although today and at this moment I am on the inside And you do hold a key.
You control my day With food and light and heat Noise and water and words Which are blessings from god That have become the terrible tools of man, Used to make me fear And hate And abandon hope.
And so on this day when I can no longer hate Or hope, The last morsel of will That I control Chooses to die, And so I become the last gift To my self Wrapped in this terrible box.
My head-brain is not idle I play with it daily Hoping to keep that silly putty Plastic Stretching and kneading it Like the grey flesh matters Reading, thinking, writing Digging, hauling, dancing As if I could say to it, “What do you think of that?! Try to make sense of this… Check this out…” The world of reality offers endless possibilities Challenges to juggle Balls bouncing plates spinning And on many days I choose to play So I try not to slough it off. I’m in the game, because it’s fun And I don’t want to lose my Way To become undone So I am always amazed at the misfires In my cluttered cortex Like writing my return address on an envelop Where I no longer reside Ooppps! Does it mean that I am at the Top of the slide? Because it seem that the Only place where I am really home The keys are hung within my head And I sleep upon this body bed.
We are not so different You and I. We have come the same way Sometimes soaring To cloud crowned heights Sometimes staggering To the low-down depths. And when our stories Are passed down Through the ages, Both tales of caution And parables of triumph, The compasses of our hearts Will surely have pointed In the direction of what We genuinely learned.
And just one more thing… Isn’t that what we all are hoping for One more thing? Not a life’s worth Or a career, or a long term this or that Just one more whoop-de-doo One more lick of that chocolate ice cream cone… Or a good beer and a burp or A laugh out loud, I’ll take one of those… Or maybe a tender tussle With a soft sweet lady?
So today, I walked and crawled a bit Through a lava tube cave A few thousand feet in the dark Seeing the intestines of the volcano Now cooled, but so different So foreign, so sweet. And I turned off the flashlight And slowly counted to 60 In darkness like before the Big Bang Darkness that makes me want to Celebrate The light in your eyes And mine.