Showing posts with label intuition. Show all posts
Showing posts with label intuition. Show all posts

Monday, May 30, 2022

Pro Noun



When it is said

Something told me

Something made me

I sensed something-

where is the body

of the thing

that sometimes

does not resemble

Us

Like things

that feel or don't feel

Right?

Aren't we feeling

Some

Thing...


Artwork by Robert Lewis Reid, 'The Mirror' c. 1910 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Tuesday, July 6, 2021

Cardiac muscle


 

Any-one-of-Us

who have heard

the shattering of a heart,

of a world

fragmented, knows the 

intent to deafen each piercing note...

Those of Us 

who have struggled with intruding songs and scents, 

are stuck in a triggered trap, clamped

between sharp teeth

and resisting no more,

alone. 


Some of Us 

disagree 

with how lovely it is to have lost

than never have had

played a game we did not know.

Intuition, like embers emit no smoke,

but deep connections 

lean candle flames without a breeze.

It can be felt,

on fingertips, burnt leaves, ashes-

heat is Life.

Death is a dampening, silent

as in, buried Alive.

And I know

how these memories 

refuse departure.

On the ancient land where I now stand-

my story is held momentarily

footprints in the red dirt 

alone, cauterized, singed, 

and dappled with sunlight.

Fire with fire.

Most of Us

will not get that close

ever again.


None of Us

understand 

the heart that burns

and beats without Us

skipping over

tiny details like nails

hammered into the heartwood. 



Artwork by: Sigmund Grimm, dated 1520 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.



Monday, June 1, 2020

The life of a spark


Just beneath the skin of surface
something darker
traveled through
like a current
can only be felt
in volume.

Right outside of the visual range
a source of heat
like an explosion of light
ignited
all that could be flammable
was taken asunder.

What lurks like intuition
our own shadow seems detached,
aloof and cool to the touch.
An absence only felt
as nothing
that could be caught.


Painting by Winslow Homer (1836-190) , 'Campfire, Adirondacks', c. 1892 in Public Domain. 

Sunday, April 28, 2019

Chalk


Green, oh so serene,
            awash in heart
and yellow glow,
            gentle evening strength
And absorb
            the black smoke
and fireballs like shooting stars
             hurled in my direction
observing
             the energy, only-
I scoff-a slip-and then correct
my posture-composure-and breath
                   from inside the top of my
skull, I wait,
                   presently
for revelation
                    to show
nothing is real
but the indigo
                    I know.


Photo credited by Ross Burgener 2013 [Public domain].

Monday, November 27, 2017

Round the bend


At this time
change felt like the fog rolling in
and when driving into the road mirage
and not hitting a thing-

in a blur that stranges the familiar,
stretches out time a little
like a band,
rubber or air-the change

lingered heavier than mist,
more solid than virga,
icy in all the same clear ways that
when you try to cut it out

from what was always
called Now I am-
like routine and rut,
running along the edges fray,
more than decor, drapery, or flax
like flux, anticipated
or a natural change
of season.

It could have been
Only that-

At this time,
comforts naked shoulder
cooled in the exposure,

where same,
felt somehow strange
like never before.





Image credit By U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Friday, October 16, 2015

Kinesthetic revival


Born out of our inertia state
while silently
our senses
are sewing
our patchwork genes,
to Be
delivered, redeemed, undone
the blank slate begins,
to write it all off
a pattern to follow
blindly, numbly, not for us.
Not able to notice earth's busy spin
its constancy keeps us safe
centrifugal, reactive, unresponsive
never the less, we regress...

What's more, Those, they
(such as We) that feel
First-
and make sense later.
We don't walk into webs,
our antennas always on high alert.
Hyper-sensitive, ultra-receptive,
gut feelings or (not)
knowing and acting
instinct and intuition
dreams become reality
-we enjoy-
coded messages
defying gravity
while carrying burdens
throwing our weight
testing our substance
hoping to make an impression
in the sand, on the sky
shooting for the stars,
hovering in a black hole
gravity swallowed whole
floating in Nirvana
and residing there
easing into eternity
for never and sway.


Image by I, Luc Viatour [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 via Wikimedia Commons. Water on web. 


And then...

  Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign,  at first...