#Poetry - Moksha

I've the frequent bouts of prolonged
Motion fainting and consciousness losing
That I am often trying to explain
The experience to myself and others,
But for all the sensations I may
Give a name to there is just one revelation
That calls out from each one--
That as I rise and elevate with haste
I lose nearly all and sometimes all
Memory of this universe and then
By the nanosecond-slowly regain it,
For on account of haste I must return.

I have achieved it.
When you must tell yourself
This is Moksha so it is,
So where am I now?
Maybe I better put my harness back on,
On second thought maybe I don't like this at all,
There that's better a changed subject.

#poetry - reciting memorized eternity

So show me some of this eternal meaning
If you dare summon the thing in yourself
I tell you we were meant only to try
And to nurse each other through each attempt

We've got to make ourselves tired make ourselves quit
Too potent the draw too coursing its life

I push the cart through each aisle each side blurred but understood

We'll eat sand from a sand box and tell ourselves it's spaghetti
Domina rose and bird flew domina rose and fell
Tree farmer sings but he's only a lonely grower
And it's so long till the next life how bout another song

I wonder if things that eat things alive do so
Because they don't know how to kill or not
But to try and vary the ways you before you
Eat a thing and make it your own rip it apart

I push the cart as I go while i sit in a wheelchair too
Our thoughts are not what determines next but
Memory reciting memorized eternity
As we are and as I am always

I forget and then I need to know and feeling is the appreciation
Not of new but for Memory decays to grow so recalls to show
Smelling the ice cubes tells of the demon you've captured
There is no sense in time unless there is

When sea gulls float against the wind and sun and sky

#poetry - Between the Bushes

Haze-blue at high noon, in the park
We lay like roasting peanuts
On a smooth brown cotton blanket.

I, on my stomach with mouth
buried into my folded arms,
laughed at your clever jokes.

You on you back with legs bent,
one crossed over the other,
Form golden slides for golden rays.

We soak and slurp this lazy noon.
Oil lakes collect deep in your navel
And shallow at the small of my back.

The white gray city looms over us,
White haze, metal and stone,
Penetrates our green grass haven--

Back Bay fens, park and glade,
Of muddy pond and Muddy river,
Of dirt paths and idle grass.

Here we stake our claim.
On even cut grass we lay
And close our eyes and listen.

A regular clink of bat and ball,
da-dunk da-dunk of ball and court,
slurk-slurk of skate and walk.

Dog barks, dogs bark, dogs are playing.
Children talk, children laugh,
boys are laughing, one girl screams.

Lovers giggle and lovers giggle,
lovers make sound. Lovers and their baby,
Lovers and their children, they whisper secrets.

Feet drag on even cut grass,
Ploosh-slucking feet in swamp muck and
Plink-plinking pebbles in the pond.

I open my eyes, a world of green
Fights a world of blue, white haze mediating
we are baking as witnesses.

All colors, all warmed and golden flesh,
All Back Bay fens, all a sun loved day,
All sound and scent, all bodies, dance.

Clear clean cut grass, hazy smokey skyline,
Burning black path and ruddy mud pond,
Oh the stalky garden, and there between dark bushes

Colors dances, fight and mingle,
Like business on a trading day,
as floral bloom in this heat of spring.

My chest is heavy with my own weight,
I raise myself and sit on my feet
And laugh again at this comedy.

Bushes now twitter across the path
With a man between the bushes, twittering,
A gawker dark-loving everything he sees.

"Why do we come here?" I ask you,
"This place is full of freaks."
"Its warm" you say, "and quaint..."

Your eyes are closed but mine are not,
and yet you are right, it is warm.
So I and another man, clear out those bushes.
    ...and now it is quaint.

#poetry - come help me with a song

oh music come and save me now
I am running hard and long
I am running from old memory
I will soon be overcome

I saw the end of family
I saw the end of all
so I need a new memory
help me make it with a song

help me heal
oh help me love
help me now oh music
come help me with a song

#poetry - Fewer Pieces Left Behind

(written January 17th, 2010)

I am the first born of the dead and one of the rulers of the kings of earth.
Now and again there comes in mind as here--
And I ask myself shall I return to my Church?
Shall I return to Church before I return to earth?

How swiftly we do, how swift rather,
   how swift we do

             forget and remember
             friends and waters
             lends and grants
             deeds and sovereigns
             echoes and chants

fateful journeys we take, fortune telling the wake
how swift we do harm by the length of this psalm
yet we are the writer now and
bid the reader smaller bites to eye will
preserve the psalm from harm and the eye as well.

I am the porcupine. This is my spell.

And I heard tell
"The Gods are coming down. The Gods are coming down and that's a guarantee."
                                                                     - John M.

In a place where I wrote, "A Gent of the System"

And who are you today, Senor Ortiz---
~A Gentleman of the Sister Temple~

And what have you to say for yourself, Sir?
~You have forgotten already my name-
and from where we wonder are you now came~


"The Hunting Verse" from The Jungle Book by R. Kipling

Feet that make no noise;
eyes that can see in the dark;
ears that can hear the winds in their lairs;
and sharp white teeth;
all the things are the marks of our brothers
except Tabaqui the Jackal and the Hyaena
whom we hate."


B-Bop-O

few er peace S left b-hind

Generatta

I sit here, where Eliot could not,

Twenty floors above the street.

People below are color spots—

Trowsers, rolled? Flat-front or pleat?

Of their flesh is a matter of guess.

That they are human, a matter of faith.

What are they—  What? Tsk tsk, sot—

I simply take note of their game,

Watching as the hawk eyes prey from afar

Through great lanes of land and air,

But I do not swoop, I lick my feathers clean

Of the knowledge my hawk eyes glean,

Here are not matters of pride or shame,

Here is only a question of how to compare

One spot to another, high above it all—

I do not swoop because swooping involves me,

And well, you see,

The twenty floors between,

Naturally, disinterest me.

the time-lines are laughter

how hilarious the time-lines can be.
most times i think of time
i think from one or two points of view,
                                    yours or mine.
sometimes i feel good to see We-time.
feels even better, i know now, to see
Non-We time,
                      the voices calling out
from behind a wall or out under a rock,
or remnants of many meals
                      steaming a slow decay.

the We time-line had its downward trend,
                      We-everyone as well as We-us.

Six or sevens months and
We-us wore smiles most of that time,
cried some, but made love right after.

we dreamt and shared,
      we fought and made up
             we were high and low at once
                    We-were We-us, regardless.

Six or seven months months after We-us parted,
i enjoyed an I-me-my burst of laughter
suddenly remembering
              lifting thirty pounds
of dog poop out of the back-yard enclosure

We-us had been too preoccupied,
              i suppose by We-us love,
to take her for a decent walk.

        the time-lines are laughter
for the six or seven months of We-us bliss
              and the thirty pounds of dog shit.

i Revealed November 2009

I Waged a War of Words
that became a War of Worlds
that became a War
that became
and then Just Was.

I Saged a love by Words
that became the love of Worlds
that became a love
that became
and then

I Aged a World of love
that became a love Wild
that became a love
that became
a child

I Raged a World of Numbers
that became a World of letters
that became a World
that became
a Song

I Maged a Word of mind
that became a Body of thine
that became a World
that became
Just in time

i gauged a light of source
that became a fateful choice
that became a fate
that became
Rejoice!

I caged a Week of Days
that became a Week of years
that became a Week
that became
God Song tears

i Aged eternal and slept awhile
i awoke to the music echo
in the cave of craze
in the cave
i sang

i forgot the words were mine
i forgot ever thine
i forgot to pay
i forgot and now
i pray

i raised a world of ghost
i chased a world of dream
i cased the world of seam
i lazed an empty beam
i heart host

lo! now do i hear the rifle call
echoing my names---how
the memory falls---how
we lose it all, somehow,
we lose it all---and how
we find it all again

we find each other, we lose each other;
we shall find each other again.
husband and wife,
brother and sister,
friend out of friend---
the river flies out,
and we loop around the bend