IF I MINDED

June 7, 2017

I’ve been biding my live time

My trivial “real”-life trials

All the challanges this chuff can ignore

All the more he might’ve  imagined

If i minded any more

For somehow here  and not

For somewhere not

WINTER AWARENESS SEMINAR

January 13, 2017

1       ONE WINTER ADDITION

teachers to small children

the world over

pastors to parish

they all will tell the pretty truth

(aside the pretty lies, “pretty lies”)

that crystalline snowflakes

are unique. unique.

and maybe later in both

secular schoolrooms

and sunday school classes

(and in all their varieties the world over)

small children might make snowflakes for themselves

they’ll fold lacy paper exactly in half

with a good crease

and taking their round-ended scissors

they’ll cut their very own unique cuts

so that when everyone unfolds their lacy paper

and lifts it above their heads

everyone can laugh at their uniquenesses

.

but one thing that ministers & mentors

rabbis & nuns will fail to add

is that those one-of-a-kind snowflakes

are all

alone

in their descent

on icy black currents

all their night fall

.

2        STILL, NOT STILL

It’s the coldest morning this year

And the Farmer’s Almanac says this year

There’s gonna be a winter of ’em

Me, I won’t mind

I like how loud the still is

.

forty years ago a brother from Chicago

called the cold wind

“the hawk”

I wonder if it’s still true

I wonder if “that muthafuckin Hawk”

is still cursed & bundled against

in the only city cited for its big blow.

.

3

When island settings lose their place

in imaginings,

When our mornings sun  there

warms our skin, bare,

There’s these shade floral sanctuaries,

And, I’m betting,  perfect for setting your eyes on…

God’s perfect line,  one horizon.

When all  won’t free you,

Won’t call you from all this freezing

Point of view,

This illusionary season,

What ttthen?

.

.

.

.

(from a decade ago)

SKETCHY SANCTUARY

November 5, 2016

 

 

 

Some seem to see the floor of the sea

as a sketchy, yet effective sanctuary.

They’re thinking, I think, that it’s tucked away

good. &  Could be quite quiet.

Sure would be  you’d dream good there.

Sure, it goes that you must breathe much slower.

Sure,  bluegreen cracks for surface lightening.

But, You’ll see  that jeweled fishes,

Stilled  with  witness,

Flee at the softest flourish.

And bets are..sandbeds are busy with movement.

How can my dreams take when I’m floating awake?

E N T R A P T (A Fragment)

October 30, 2016

Burning a blacker ceiling hole

Drilling a dark room through to blending smears on a pallet

Still making do on my back aching soul

Yearning readily to strain to make go

Dreams from  raindio.

Sirens sing on waves  & also

They’re  Racing through avenues.

As they’re both keen on captives

NEVERTHOUGH

July 11, 2016

More than a maritime man

Might be quieted & quarantined

By the stilled waters of halcyon days.

Without fail, farther than a sailor

Might set his sights on, in a sunset, &

Might sail off, inside  silently  intent

On his own idyllic ports.

.

He’ll neverthough question the cargo aboard.

.

His cap is mostly turned

Off towards the way the wind was mostly aiming.

.

.

.                                                          (from 6 yrs back)

 

I B I S

July 10, 2016

“Just be quiet and sit down/The reason is you are drunk/And this is the edge of the roof”                                                                                                                       -RUMI

“…And be prepared to bleed”   -Joni Mitchell, from “I Could Drink A Case Of You”

.

They spin me ’round  one time, two

At three, they scattered then, their laughter

Left with them, leaving me to

Compose  myself

To something that may matter

.

2

There’s Ibis outside, on my back lawn, my rain.

And I have

To photograph them there,

Then, stage the image at DeviantArt or Flickr,

Where some drummer will steal it

(good eye & hand talent, w/the accent on eye)

Then, those Ibis will be  re-staged

On their “releasable” CD cover,

Or maybe on his big bass drum.

Maybe if I was loaded or dumb

I’d upload it to Facebook

So high school “friends” (we kept it mum)

May be bored enough snoops…

They’ll  see my birds,

Then back,  Away.  Poof

I’ll snoop myself/ Craigslist for free

“Missed Connections” is the only place

To see who’ve noticed your face

And wanted you,  destinyly.

 

 

BREATHING EXERCISES

June 12, 2016

 

 

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.

II.

We went to go to a yoga class.

Where a barefooted, hairpleated 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 possibillity.

When we inhale

we rememorize  our own gods.

We exhale our hell.  barefoot.  on a mat.

Whew. To that.

III.

When I get to go to the Gulf of Mexico

This one will disrobe & run so,

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 Breath,

face down,

head down.

–   –   –   –   –

 

 

 

 

 

“Faint Mists Paint a Maze”

is warranted as a title,

to be entitled, for a forward

to a body of work about:

highland trails, thorough haze,

brash dense brush, broken fences,

rainy bald boulders, wildflowers,

sunlight threads, down onto mosses,

log lichen, & mushrooms.

And as sea fog works so/ as a grey god’s cloaks,

far mountains are fathers.

Clinky silver rivulets

where waterbugs & yellow leaves

float off./  I can’t.  I’ve rolled off

these  fertile sheets.  & on.

.

SKETCHY SANCTUARY

May 1, 2016

 

 

Some seem to see the floor of the sea

as a sketchy, yet effective sanctuary.

They’re thinking, I think, that it’s tucked away

good.  Could be quite quiet.

Would be you’d dream good there.

Sure, it goes that you must breathe much slower.

Sure,  bluegreen cracks for surface lightening.

But, You’ll see that jeweled fishes,

Stilled  with  witness,

Flee at the softest flourish.

And bets are..sandbeds are busy with movement.

How can my dreams take when I’m floating awake?

A D R I F T

September 18, 2015

I swear  it’s Clara

I see clearly on the ceiling

Before I embark onto

Darkening  streams

To  a dream where Clara is nearer

.

I splash up, plop a step up,

&  Stand up on her shore

&  Stretch erect  on her far shore.