Graves and Beds

Often times
of late
I sense I am
two steps,
three ridges back and
one unburnt bridge away
from living the prophecy
being held for me
in some place
I am afraid
to go out of the cave
without any possessions
fear seems rational
but staying
inside while the earth crumbles
around me
ends
one way
eventually
the choice is made
for and by us
evenhandedly
all or nothing
for better
or worse
flowers lie.

Painting by Calude Monet, 'Rounded flower bed', c. 1876 in Public Domain. 

green light

Now

each decision

a-way, option

verb tension-

The signs were all re(a)d.

Painting by Edward Mitchell Bannister, c. 1882 in [Public domain].

dead end

Like Darwin's finches,
would we know why our beaks are shaped this way?

Poetry, like mathematical sentences,
cage the pigeon, momentarily truth can be contained
in theorem.

History was written to expel,
revise, adapt and to forget the way it happened
in order to make story from time with a line.

A plot never seems to develop
or hold
what was expected.

I do repeat myself,
I say things I often don't recognize
as mine, I smell fear in my atmosphere
and wish flight was my choice.


Artist Jacques Callot (1592-1635) 'Traveler' early 17th century, in Public Domain. 

Thor's day

Lightning likes it when we reach up to touch the sky.

And, grounded as we are

lucky in keeping our electricity contained 

and kept a safe distance from the epicenter or eye

It is miraculous we survive, sometimes, like a flash-

in the way that it is so unexpected, sudden

and unbelievable-until it occurs to you. 

Miraculum, as in the object of wonder.

It happened to me on a Thursday in February, 

just past the noon hour.

I was punched in the chest-

windswept out with words-choking on this

wonder-full revelation.

Desperately I tried to grasp my breath 

midair and stuff it back in where it stings 

and has been so hollow

and in wrestling with this 

it may have sounded like crying or rain.

But the dam lids overflowed 

and I struggled to compose a normal sound

while my son grabs a beverage from the fridge behind me, 

I exhale-steadily

as if blowing out a wish.

It was a video I was supposed to watch, assigned, as in destiny.

The woman spoke of her life, nothing like mine. 

Then she spoke of suicide and asked why, why, why-

she was not asking for forgiveness.

She traded her story with a Buddhist, 

the words he chose to frame her parable were:

"You chose Them", I coughed, she repeated, “you Chose them.”

The accusation blinding, hence the tears we blinked back.

It changes Here.

Where things are twisted 

around & 

you break the descending karmic chain
and begin Free fall.

This is when my heart plummeted like lead into my pelvis,

my rib cage closed, and I gasped one last deep breath

before being born once again

on a Thursday in February.

“This is the miracle that happens every tie to those who really love: the more they give, the more they possess.” 

-Rainer Maria Rilke

         “Everybody holds the possibility of a miracle.” 

-Elizabeth David 

 “I’ve never seen a greater monster or miracle than myself.” 

-Michel de Maontaigne

Painting by Mårten Eskil Winge (1825-1896), 'Thor's Battle' in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

lying in the grass

It was just a dream, but I woke up wondering
if I will ever again meet the dapper demon...

who offers a choice to become blind forever
or deaf to only my own voice-

much like the migrating fish in the Lethe...

up or downstream doesn’t change the course.
I remembered saying that I’d rather never
see brand new green or the sad sky again-

I would just try to feel them touching me

from now on, without sight
I might believe in conductivity 
through contact,
life, this body... 

And assuredly, others will certainly appear
more clearly to me.

But the handsome hellion in the dream
misheard the choice, 

or chose otherwise on my behalf,

and my kaleidoscope eyes kept confusing 
up and down, 

feeling my feet in the bluegrass, 

facing the limelight. 

Painting by Albert Joseph Moore [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Explain yourself

The words were all too long,
became easily tangled and how I kept
pulling at what I thought was an end,
pulling, pulling, pulling, and
thereby taking too much
out of me
the body became barren.

What was understood as a major shift
of power, in direction or by time constraints,
was the anticipated and alternating current
as in that way
opposition acts by force.
Listen, it was my fate,
or decision
to do or not to do.

Small acts, even one
may be a miracle,
after all
this, one thought, one
surviving-

the risks were all there, caution was
issued too. Accuse, dismiss and relish
the sound of ones voice,
and how it comes out, represents
the avatar or holographic image
taken at the ideal angle
or time.

We were all Free
to walk around and not utter a word,
or like me, never give thoughts away with
dignity,
to light, to mind, to mouth, to hand
and inevitably, words were dying.
The Words
were writhing and gasping for shape,
despite the hand that rushed
along-

Definitions, unlike synonyms
carry want and need, unable to
extract and dilute the difference
between
I am and I was.


Painting By Yamashita Shintarō (29 August 1881 to 11 April 1966) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Lull-a-by

Stop at the low point, and in this recess

you will need these low slopes

to assess your remaining strength
in gradient.

Then,

          gather all the carnage you can,

but take none further than the valley.

To think is an acting verb.

Robots had been employed long ago.
Slave drives and across partitioned Seas
forbidden steps were recorded.

It was that legend that made it obvious 

                  we had since been spendthrift with time.

Our hands dirty from digging 

for shiny money and grit.

                   Seeing the stars so far from reach

we felt unrelated.
It became problematic, morally. 

As we take note of the hour
by the shadows cast backward,

thoughtfully-one attempts to

Rescale themselves
                                against the evening sky.

The airs thins during ascent

Aiming 
to take our breath away,

Try.

You will know when you need more than 

rocks and steps to move on.

And the ache

will accompany you (in lieu of Virgil),

And you will see the great Mountain 
                                  as more than one needs

in steps to reach

the peak

without why, 
                                  but because it is There. 

Humming and drumming help us close the distance.

Stars and mounds all added up to virtually nothing

separate or other,

meaning to, meaning too

much choice. 

Lulled into thinking the rest
helped gather strength
(in lieu of charge).




Painting By L. A. Roberts (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.

this bliss

Not uncommonly,
They may ask of you,
to look around-

Take in the view,

as it were,

but it is best to leave it out.

In cases when told

This is the way it is done,

one need not rush toward the end.

And if casually asked to share your secrets

be willing to concede

the bigger half will be theirs.

Often they say They have been there

and done just that, you know

not that same annual vacation-exactly.

Repeatedly
They always say-They hear you,

it would have happened

either way-as if unaffected by choices
made either way.

Finally,

They have never seen you look this way-

Has something changed?

This acceptance,

This silence,

This resolution,

This endurance,

You have never seen this

on me, is it new?

I guess,

I call it Bliss.


Painting by John Melhuish Strudwick (1888) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.