Famished (i am)

Drink as though you've dreamt
in cool streams of aqua vita.
Devour what you crave
under red flame and red raw.
Indulge in your ingenious ideas,
swoon in the sweet murmurs
of language and lingering lyric,
encouraging and nourishing.
Listen to those.
Ingest for pleasure,
erupt with contagion
-for that I came-
-thou art that-
but You.
Just Now
meaning
Everything.
There is nothing more.



-for that I came- is from the poem What I Do Is Me-For That I Came by Ray Bradbury and -thou art that- is used often by Aldous Huxley (I am certain the all other words have also been used before by someone somewhere sometime somehow in some(other)way as well).


Image of painting by Ramon Casas i Carbó [Public domain],c. 1892 via Wikimedia Commons.

Thin air

The clouds kept 

getting sucked up

in tall towers,

weaving spindles

of cotton wands.

It makes

ponder,

it makes

wonder,

it caused pause

to feel for my feet,

small as they seemed

from up there.

Image By GAURAV MAROO (MY DIGI CAM) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Rime on the windows

Excuses? A few...
I denied-
I plied,
I tried, I lied
I tried to hide,
I cried,
I sighed and then
tried to clarify
why
I might (not)
write more tonight,
despite the slightly dim light,
(not) quite bright
enough
and (not) the (right) stuff
I could do
instead of (not) facing you...

And I steer clear
when I fear you are near
my space, in my place
if you hear a tear,
while fiction is lurking
late-wait
my dear,
it was just sincerely
me.
Wrestling with
preservation, conservation,
constriction, restriction to never do-
well- do not tell all
that has made me unwell...I wont
and dont.
When I go to melt the frost,
I am lost,
my fingertips won't melt the ice...
why a window if it wont show
the way out? I doubt you know,
since the rime grows on itself,
and swallowed the last word.


composed 3/29/16

Image By Hydraulicsuperman (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

To Whom this Invocation May Concern

How am little i,
oh wisest one,
to beg, plead, ask of you-
To whom do I direct this to?
i've been patiently holding it in,
awaiting your silent reply,
yet I regret to inform,
i'm grasping
at air-
missing you there,
perhaps...
-will come when you're ready,
pending by suspension,
willing my belief.
Just know,
as anticipating listener,
my tongue is in your hands.
i banish my own banter,
drowning your voice,
gurgling from my inner ear.
No More! Silence!
i remain fixed, devoted
and listening to every
syllable you may say,
chomping at all your
crisp wafer clues
not knowing how to
thank you.
when you come and go
abruptly as you
please
leaving me hanging
dead before the echoes back
because I never caught your name...


Composed 11/6/15

Image of painting by Sophie Gengembre Anderson, Portrait of a Young Girl [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

You're breaking up

Spoken word poet-

try: talking to ones soul a

loud-can you hear It?

Image of painting By Angelica Kauffmann (1741-1807) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Eminent Domain

Be cause
we have hands,
we take things with us,
carry our burden bags around
and tote our tiny things
call them tailor-made
and hope they are flattering.

Be cause
this land we said was ours
dirt we move around
while space remains unsettled
humanity as a clod has agreed,
since we cannot yet steal stars
all is all
of ours.

Be cause
eminence is an amalgamation
man-made and molded.
Be cause
domain has been appropriated
not by Volume.
We are empty
and entertained
with things
we thought
were matter.

Be cause
we do not have
nothing.
Be cause
dark matter
expands exponentially
Love is the only thing
light enough
to keep.




Image By Internet Archive Book Images [No restrictions], Light and Life Woman, via Wikimedia Commons.

Lesson 1: Nature and the Soupman

Travel back to your first lesson
taught by Mother Nature.
When you learned
your parents were not the only
nor the best
teachers
about life.

We went camping,
my parents, their friends, Hercules-the dog.
We'd go to the Russian River
where there were no campsites-
you sight your spot and camp-
if you like.

They would drink and fish,
and drink like fish,
and more-it was the eighties.
Their friend, 

a man called Kevin Soupman
was fishing near me
when he caught a rainbow
trout.

He held it across both his hands,
it was shiny, slimy and squirmy-

the things kids like.
Moments later,
he said he had something for me.
He told me to hold out the palm
of my hand.
I did, eagerly.

In it,
he placed a crimson pebble.
It rolled a moment
as I tried to see it more closely
then it settled in the evening sun-
(un)still

throbbing and beating its inner drum.
Thus,

Nature and the Soupman
taught me
all I needed to know
about heartlessness.


Image By Ken Hammond / USDACornischong at lb.wikipedia [Public domain], from Wikimedia Commons.