Finish Lines

“Finish lines”
It says so on this napkin
And what in fact does it mean?
I mean at one moment I wrote it, me,
With hopes and promises perhaps
to write more
And now it threatens to be an empty promise
A false step
and yet another stumble.

I have had these dreams too,
Fully formed and contrived
Curious, colorful
Amusing
meaningful?
And in my slumber
I bookmark them
To remember in the morning
to ponder,
for they are me too,
Only to find that what once was
so bold so brilliant
Has faded into vapor with the dawn
crumbled and spent
until there is no clear memory at all
no recall
just the empty space where something
was
or something might have been.
A thought, an idea
that would have journeyed somewhere
and I would have followed it
absorbed in the world of words
Joyfully?
Painfully?
A page or two
fully fleshed
Signed and sealed
My moment of Zen.

There must be a lesson
Strike while the napkin is hot?

I wonder where I might have gone
if things had been different.

At the Core

It may start as white,
complex and crystalline hexagons,
nuclei of salt or soot
reaching such variety and number
that if we all counted these frozen forms we
could never reach such a sum.

And just below these cold layers
is the stiff brown and gray
soil that keeps its secrets close,
but perhaps even at this late date
we might learn to see,
even upon the day that we add to it
our broken lives
transitioning from green and red
as it slumps
and molders
and down it goes
so it goes
a metamorphosis
to the world primal and
fundamental and foundational
where no further questions
are needed
or asked
and all is understood
and stands at the core once more.

There is relief to be found
In the things we may never know.

Oh Sh*t!

Oh Sh*t!

It's a noun, it's a verb, it's an interjection! What-a word! Spanning the globe, crossing the ages!

And as we all know it comes by various names...I prefer to call it poop. Do-do is too-too silly, crap too harsh and binding, excrement too technical, too ceremonial, and brown trout...well, just way too funny! Yes, so I prefer poop; a nice round word, so very descriptive, almost onomatopoeia poetry, just the way it ought to be.

It seems to be the topic of many ages: When very young, it is a function moderated and congratulated. When a teen, at least for boys, it is a marvel, a moving accomplishment, the term often accompanied by the adjectives: massive, awesome, huge, tremendous, etc. When elderly, we marvel once more at these passages, triumphantly, satisfied, and relieved!

And if you can't, what a bind, such a shame ,and sometimes just a pain in the ass. My doctor is concerned enough to have a chart with graphics of poop, instructing: Please circle the picture that looks like yours. I guess drawing your own self portrait would be out of the question.

I eat oatmeal often. High in fiber, so it is an easy-in easy-out meal. Sort of a soft serve of sorts. Easy on the moving parts too!

Pondering poop, I wonder: why is it held in such high disregard?

The smell? Well there is that, pwew! The nose knows, so watch your step.

Night soil's bad reputation of harboring pathogens means that it may be unhealthy. But maybe better food would give us better health? What we need to grow these foods is some good, cheap, readily available fertilizer...oh ya... Nature calls (she never texts) so don't let the good stuff go to waste.

And taking a poop ( or leaving it more precisely) is such a leveling human event. As the book says, everyone poops!

The event can take place in a quiet moment, (except for the rumbles), and in a quiet location. Meditative and solitary, you might just find yourself with a few personal minutes. Maybe read, write, or just look out a window at the view. Sitting on your throne you reign supreme, you are king or queen for the day!

I have a Lovable Loo, which means I poop in a bucket in a box. Later it becomes composts. Then when the fungi and bacteria and worms and larvae have had their way, it goes back onto the ground, nice and brown, to fertilize the trees and shrubs. Seems right doesn't it? Waste not want not. And why spoil five gallons of perfectly good water just to flush it away to … ? I prefer to drink water. Leave it to the fish to poop in the water...I'll give my poop back to the earth. I've never seen a dog or cat or horse or goat poop in a pond. And we all know where the bears go. Poop does seem destined to end there, quiet naturally, with just a little help and forethought. Mammalian manure, ya know? Where is this mythical land of away anyway? Away from me...

So with just a little more time and effort, I become responsible for my doings. Shouldn't we all be? Isn't there a Hawaiian word, poo-liana? Taking care of business? Some people just don't seem to give a shit.

How about you?