BREATHING EXERCISES

June 29, 2017

 

 

I.

She won’t roll away & not watch me.

Y’see, I won’t  seem to take,

When I dream (or I 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 all that.

III.

When I get to go to the Gulf of Mexico

I’ll try out  into 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.

 

F O R G E S

May 1, 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

There ought better be a beacon
on a pacific coast cliff could be
where hope’s light works with sea horn
where a night light works without warning
It forces & forges  the blackest  fog & forests
There can be a candle
in a window with enough heat
to fire the hearth
to light one lone solitary stone room
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(from 2010)
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.”Writing is nothing more than a guided dream” -Jorge Luis Borges

 

N E W

March 13, 2017

i)

M  U  C  H

often it’s uncertain   to see,

to see the true things through,

but certainly sometime’s there’s time

when surely much of what’s new

when noticed might matter

to you or rather

to me

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.                    ii)

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D  U  E

I fear I forget that the frail,

nearly unable, but

when a whisper of   Will…

when they muster an incalculable

measure of  reach

to straighten, and lean up

for what’s due.

That’s alot to wait for

.

The Freshest thing in the clearing

by the pond’s sunk boat,

near a nest,  There’s this ringing

drop, possibly  just now dotting

one leaf,  left  just new

by all the dew

That’s what I wait for

 

AN AIR IN MIGHT MARSHES

January 28, 2017

 

 

The word on the street was repeatable.

That was then. Y’know, now  not so agreeable.

That word, that gist  in senseless sentences, that word

It just must be ignored.

.

The sleepy  air  slipping right through the reeds there,

The night marshes where nightmares Stay as seeds  there.

The song, that mist of music meant to soothe, yes, songs

That must not be ignored.

.

Upon  a  pond

Where big calm mists meet surfaces

Water bug clouds  dance down aways

And I stand to see through tree trances

This moon is broken enough to lend to substance

For  near and far bearings,  distances,

And  at first. existences.

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I swear here’s where the strings swell in

 

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(2 YRS BACK)

If I should shift off my myth-making,  not forsaking my pathos,

I could concede defeat on  conceits  I’ve concealed,

 

Turn tail on my inner errant paths,

&  Find my feet,   for far, afield.

YES, THE SEQUENCES GO

August 4, 2016

 

 

 

Yes, the sequences go, this set’s pro-

gressing.  We stand in our streams,

Study up our storm weather,

We’re all under the weather.

Yes, the compass is off-putting.

Yet we’ll Guess & fully dare  come push there the river?

We’ll willfully  dare   footing?

Or go on down   downflow?

Or go on

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Sacristies.

July 2, 2016

 

 

 

Toe heel  toe heel towards

Light in the woods

Right around  leaves, debris. Eyes downward.

I mean to  indianwalk  to the sacristy.

There,  Icon art  & artifice

May not or may marshall  my resources

To  may not or may dispel my discordance.

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I  just  could  crest  over  woods

O’er horizons

CREATIVE RIDING

May 13, 2016

I’m fine with pining for  somewhere else

I’ve not got a trace of sense

To embrace the opened present tense

 

Zen  izn’t  happenin’.

The lines seem long,  tho’

DREAMLAND   boasts  “the most creative rides”,

So Go!

 

There I take my place

Stare off into space

PLAIN

May 8, 2016

 

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, I attained from  anonymous tests

IMG_4957

Advent, even I wait on as

Silent Partner in this stronghold.

Before I go on,

I’ll go on & make sure

The blinds are drawn.

.

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When I’m

Aware/Awake  It’s gone cold,

For me to know it,

I’ll go on & need you some

I’ll go on & remind me some

I’ll go and turn my life down some

I’ll sit myself down until

I’ll see myself still enough

To behold

We’re meant, both,

Silent partners in this stronghold.

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.                 (from 2010)