Teach me now to leave a moment
and take it into prayer
to move in chaos with a candle flame
and hold myself and others without despair,
to move through storms and turbulence
smiling,
when every word and private motion
is another bead
set in this exquisite contradiction?
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
No notice of the little man and his whistling
How like a tame little bird I've become
daintily choosing each crumb
you seem to leave behind
happily swallowing down
anything I find
while ignoring the better ones,
believing in my instinctual avian way
only what I see--
disgorging impulses and desires
gained over my short lifetime,
singing and dancing for your benefit,
content to eat what little
you forget to sweep up,
mercurial is your fashion.
Each piece smaller and harder to find,
I pretend that each moment is
a promise of a future one
How in your presence I've become
like a tame little bird
though in the end I will fly away
to peck at more substantial things
in dirt and hollow wood.
daintily choosing each crumb
you seem to leave behind
happily swallowing down
anything I find
while ignoring the better ones,
believing in my instinctual avian way
only what I see--
disgorging impulses and desires
gained over my short lifetime,
singing and dancing for your benefit,
content to eat what little
you forget to sweep up,
mercurial is your fashion.
Each piece smaller and harder to find,
I pretend that each moment is
a promise of a future one
How in your presence I've become
like a tame little bird
though in the end I will fly away
to peck at more substantial things
in dirt and hollow wood.
Monday, June 8, 2009
June 7, 2009
11:03 pm
I watched a lightning storm from my porch
tremendous crashes and rumbling thunder
like the sky had a terrible hunger
and as I watched the rain hurry down to meet me
I pondered lightning not as charged particles
and photons, static this-and-that
but more a reaching down from heaven
a yearning up from earth
a genesis of energy
of light
a recalibration of two dominions
an altogether lifting and descending
attempts at equilibrium.
the mountains, buildings and trees,
various materials of the earth
as lightning rods for the ground
as it conducts its energies skyward,
looking up
and a benediction from above
bending down for contact
in a brilliant display
a fire before water,
bridging air and earth
I watched a lightning storm from my porch
tremendous crashes and rumbling thunder
like the sky had a terrible hunger
and as I watched the rain hurry down to meet me
I pondered lightning not as charged particles
and photons, static this-and-that
but more a reaching down from heaven
a yearning up from earth
a genesis of energy
of light
a recalibration of two dominions
an altogether lifting and descending
attempts at equilibrium.
the mountains, buildings and trees,
various materials of the earth
as lightning rods for the ground
as it conducts its energies skyward,
looking up
and a benediction from above
bending down for contact
in a brilliant display
a fire before water,
bridging air and earth
Thursday, June 4, 2009
06 April 2009
10:21 am
In the end I decided no.
On days like the past few
bright shiny clear sweet
with breeze and warmth and cool clean air
This place seems almost liveable
all things as they are.
I walked through the park of green grass
fountains and pale pink-breath cherry blossoms
gossamer fluttering snowballs clinging to large pruned
cherry trees, breathing their teasing suggestions
scents along rivulets of fresh inland air
the occasional flutter of a liberated blossom casting down across
my path to settle in light
petal-drifts caught in blades of vibrant grass
some things
like these fountains
are better viewed from far away
up close they are hand wrought metallic monstrosities
Standing on top a mountain of grey striped marble
high above, a golden man
absolute and silent
gazing away from the city almost resting
with indistinct, disproportionate features worked in cruder metal than
what leaves schoolchildren clothed him in
even if you were to climb steep verticle cliffs of state
past glass panes and hallways
even then he could not see you
standing as you were right beneath a giant hollow man
I had my cellphone in hand
set to walk through endless uncounted blossoms
to make a suggestion of the day
The azure and shining gold above
the silver water,
brilliant bright green
white pink snow blossoms below
but some things are meant to last only moments
like a breath or first impressions
what but my own feeling could capture a memory
gilded with time's aged patina
sweet moments expanded, exaggerated
if I took a picture
why should I have cause to return again next year or even tomorrow?
How can one really hold onto a memory
distorted by lenses from man's hands
colors altered
breath fixed to one static, sterile sigh.
So I neglected my intent,
I left my camera in hand.
In the end I decided no.
On days like the past few
bright shiny clear sweet
with breeze and warmth and cool clean air
This place seems almost liveable
all things as they are.
I walked through the park of green grass
fountains and pale pink-breath cherry blossoms
gossamer fluttering snowballs clinging to large pruned
cherry trees, breathing their teasing suggestions
scents along rivulets of fresh inland air
the occasional flutter of a liberated blossom casting down across
my path to settle in light
petal-drifts caught in blades of vibrant grass
some things
like these fountains
are better viewed from far away
up close they are hand wrought metallic monstrosities
Standing on top a mountain of grey striped marble
high above, a golden man
absolute and silent
gazing away from the city almost resting
with indistinct, disproportionate features worked in cruder metal than
what leaves schoolchildren clothed him in
even if you were to climb steep verticle cliffs of state
past glass panes and hallways
even then he could not see you
standing as you were right beneath a giant hollow man
I had my cellphone in hand
set to walk through endless uncounted blossoms
to make a suggestion of the day
The azure and shining gold above
the silver water,
brilliant bright green
white pink snow blossoms below
but some things are meant to last only moments
like a breath or first impressions
what but my own feeling could capture a memory
gilded with time's aged patina
sweet moments expanded, exaggerated
if I took a picture
why should I have cause to return again next year or even tomorrow?
How can one really hold onto a memory
distorted by lenses from man's hands
colors altered
breath fixed to one static, sterile sigh.
So I neglected my intent,
I left my camera in hand.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Changing as it travels
Let the solar wind pass through me
pulling with gentle dissipation
disintegrating pain from identity,
the myriad parts
diaphanous and stretched to a long
great trailing ribbon
of consciousness and memory,
unraveling on planets and
other interstellar phenomena.
Through all the worlds and various galaxies;
across the endless space between;
carried far beyond any eye’s reach
my countless particles will wander,
speeding along an unbounded highway of light
and mathematical probabilities.
Twisted and broken on gravitational tides,
in between the planets and stars
pass the scattered wreckages of a life and disappointments
silently adrift and crushed together.
All the chaos and distortions
filter the cobbled particles of my former body
as it pushes across the expanse of cluttered space.
pulling with gentle dissipation
disintegrating pain from identity,
the myriad parts
diaphanous and stretched to a long
great trailing ribbon
of consciousness and memory,
unraveling on planets and
other interstellar phenomena.
Through all the worlds and various galaxies;
across the endless space between;
carried far beyond any eye’s reach
my countless particles will wander,
speeding along an unbounded highway of light
and mathematical probabilities.
Twisted and broken on gravitational tides,
in between the planets and stars
pass the scattered wreckages of a life and disappointments
silently adrift and crushed together.
All the chaos and distortions
filter the cobbled particles of my former body
as it pushes across the expanse of cluttered space.
This space, a journey
I intend this blog to be a place to release the fragments of my journals out into the world. I don't know exactly what I will be writing here. It will probably take many forms, meandering like a long stream in a flat country scene. I know that some posts will be like poems, others taking the form of excerpted journal entries, and a few resembling prayers. At this point I feel it's too soon to engineer the course of this stream to a focused, narrow gorge. So I hope that you find something to enjoy and leave a comment if you'd like!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
