BREATHING EXERCISES

August 11, 2018

She won’t roll away & not watch me.

Y’see, I won’t seem to take…

When I dream (or wake),

To take another breath before

The scene fades, before

Lights go up,

Then down to more of a zoom.

She waits in our bedroom for me to resume.

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II.

We went to go to a yoga class.

Where a barefooted, hair-pleated group leader;

Beautiful, and calmer than a

Merciful last coma,

She insisted that our deep breath is

The gist of all of it (within, & out).

We rearrange the short & tall of it.

The Gist to change the depth, see,

Of our sea of possibility.

When we inhale

We re-memorize our own gods.

We exhale our hell. barefoot. on a mat.

Whew. To that.

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III.

When I get to go to the Gulf of Mexico

I’ll try out the drink, 1st thing.

I’ll try not to think when I try to let go

& sink when I deadman’s float all day,

Into what I think of as a spiritual drift, in a way.

I’ll hold onto my own breath,

Face down,

Head down.

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P L A I N F A C E

August 9, 2018

I just thought of this

I go to a florist

I’ll ask her

Is it daisies or dahlias (or asters),

Which bunch do they

(I’ve a hunch) best convey

My perplexed P.O.V…

“I’ve no control/On how it will roll”?

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I’d get such a look

From the florist who’d jest

“I’ll check in my book”.

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I’d get daisies. They’re best.

An honest, plain face is best.

Anonymous, this I attained from anonymous tests

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https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/how-flowerobsessed-victorians-encoded-messages-in-bouquets

BESIDE A LIGHTHOUSE

August 7, 2018

All my daddies looked down to me
One daddy is asea
.

First fogs sound off as if
Birdsong was it’s voice
I meant like all lighthouses yearn
Intent on seeing inside the fog
For anything but distraction
I’m no lack for that at home
I’m straining out my eyes, & hand too
For something right to fill in
Something tonight to fill in

S I D E D O O R

July 23, 2018

I’ve got it.

If I  got floating.

I can float forever.

(“and when I want to act…”)

I can float forever & a day.

It’s harder than it looks.

Don’t be taken in by talk gone bad.

(“and when I want to act”)

there’s an exit stage  left

 

 

ENNUI DANCE

July 20, 2018

“And this is the simple truth–that to live is to feel oneself lost” – Soren Kierkegaard

G L I M P S E
A trance makes its appearance here  as
placid lakes pull fog up tight,
elsewhere perfect light there
sets to subtle sonatas
for Dance,
for ponderance and if
tucked not too loud  in a cloud. tonight
if OK  I guess I may  get my own drift.
Or glance.
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.                                                                                                        (old rhyme in a box,2008)
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s t I N K
.
of all the lies
in the air
that this liar
is truly unaware of
(is ’truly’ the right word?)
of all the lies
casual and caressing there
the air currents n
night blooming jasmine
(is ’current’ the correct word?)
My golden ones have come from…
(I’ve told em. All alchemy.)
emboldened lies, all born, I imagine,
from an open pen draining onto pages,
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from nothing.
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I’VE IVORY
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Shiny gold pen when an old
Shade-off light bulb
(it can be a candle)
Best Klieg-lights this crèche ,
Best showcases this birthplace.
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On my knees
To lure verities, (surely, scour our trees)
To cure maladies,
Wrest fallacies from unsound foundations,
Whisper one less lonely
Wise, recognizable incantation.
Take this shiny gold pen…!
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It’s nearby, go forth, go further.
I clear my path,
& Go over…
& I’ve Ivory!
Simba’ s mammoth cemetery!
(they must go in deep)
Precious sunned bones poised on as symbols
Archetexture actually
I take a sacred see of symmetry

 

20150727_090324

S W I N G S

July 11, 2018

“What you gain on the hobby horse,
You lose on the swings”
-Van Morrison, from “Thanks For The Information”
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Before me, befitting my day’s end
I can make sunrise’s spray  a sandstorm
I can take salsa splayed on something cheesy
I can carry time’s weight easy
And that’s a comfort

Before sleep, I’ve always shunned introspection
An unexamined life ain’t worth missing sleep
I can forget my regrets
I downplay the way-unsound passionate
That can sorta be a comfort

.When men & women must contend
That son of man will first extend
A hand to broken men
That’s some comfort
.
In a faraway hometown here
With a faraway feel
This dream is a theatre feature
They some seem to run off track
Reel to reel
.
I’m secure in
It’s recouring

That’s some comfort
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Inexactly, a drinking priest,
You’d think he, at least & at last,
Classically, might be caught in
(Necessary) tight vises
Of a crisis of faith.
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Vacuously, I’ll see it’s not
Necessarily true.
Knowing the knowing needs
the slowing some
the clogging some
of logic to help the heart sing through
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(for Graham Greene & Tennessee Williams, & their wondrous torturous sermons)
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(FROM YEARS & YEARS BACK)

AGAINST DARK

June 30, 2018

Perhaps it’s our cats
but I hear somebody sobbing
I swear
The sun hasn’t risen to rinse things
& I lock the door.
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I’m steadily still intent on
Instilling something graceful
On all my faces
I’ll force & offer up
Some strong move
Something Nureyev

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for Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber

Notably to nobody but me
Sea oats punch up any
Photograph, black & white, or otherwise.
There’s something about their
Well-lit grace in a breeze,
Against infinity.
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Those sea oats punctuate oil paintings
With strong lines.
Strong lines might serve as titles,
Strong prose might suit me,
“Graceful in the yielding,
Steadfastly stands the beauty.”

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.for Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber