1.21.2014
my enthusiasms slow down
taking time more
for less
days arising quietly,
first awareness
of solitude
the inside of eyeballs
dark yet awake
in moments
of simplicity.
time is a fiction,
endless
yet gone
until the day is
somehow
past
and the chair that
held me,
stiffens
to the closing of my
eyes.
and I can start again.
—————————-
1.20.2014
a chill Roxbury mid-day
fright and hope in the air
and I walked beside the
closed car
to put my body between
threats and life for the
one inside.
a symbol a voice a
presence that spoke
of dreams. and I was
young
so I walked beside
the car to keep bullets
away. which worked
for awhile.
——————————–
1.18
pale ring-bound moon
through snow tipped
early morning branches
greets like a fairy dell
tale on my walk to the
morning paper.
drifted soft snow pits
over my pajama bottoms
but no mind. the first
cup of coffee in the
rocking chair will solve
all.
daily news, others views
just a reason to say a
prayer and greet the day,
appreciative for the slow
rise of my mind to the
gifts of gratitude.
the dog snuffles for his
first meal, my love still
snoozing quietly above,
i put the kettle on and unload
the dishes. soon we will
gather our wits for the day.
———————————–
1.17
the cat sits
on the bed next to my wife
then moves to snuggle at her feet,
with tail atwitch
like a modest sphinx
glorying in the return of its mother.
calm. solid. at peace with the world,
her owl like eyes convey only
her self-containment.
when have I felt that compact
serene, composed…
perhaps never. my mind wanders, flutters, worries
and the straight buddha quiet escapes me
never arises, for other things intervene
between being and just being.
does she know more than I in her composition
or less…
sphinxlike, I will never know.
——————————
1.16
early morning aches
brain running on empty
what does it take
to overcome the
pangs of time?
creaks and squeaks
and bumps and lumps
aging ain’t
for sissies anymore
—————
1.15
A black bear roots in the
garbage, his nose deep into
coffee grounds, grapefruit
rinds, and other wonders
of disuse.
In the garbage pit of my
childhood, behind the shed
with the tin cover held down
by bricks, it was clear that
life is sui generis. Put in swill
and ipso facto there they were,
larvae, worms, maggots and all.
Maybe though it was bear’s
breath that did it, fetid, sweet
and warm from some deep
slumber place, liquid nectar
dripping and creating from
some distant plan.The soup
of life pressing forth.
Isn’t that how it always is?
Whether the bear knows it
or not?
————————————
1.14.2014
he jumped right in clothes
and all
he jumped right out at
the rooster’s call
back in, back out, the
path he trod
of learning to live as
a child of God.
——————
1.13.2014
brain dead, main bread
when will the way spread
for my fingers to be free
opening the casket of
words within the basket
deadline’s looming over me.
————————
1.12
A Jack Frost face gazes from
the frozen water fall. Black eyes,
bulbous nose and slash mouth
peering somberly, soberly at
we who pass by.
He will stay the while in his frozen
world, a king of hoarfrost and
mist, ‘till spring turn his hair spikes
liquid and eases our thoughts
into air.
O king of night and winter, please
hear our ice’n calling, believe our
frigid glances as honor to
your name.
———————
1.11.2014
my love’s smile steals
her face, so
wide and loving and wild.
her heart shines through
and mine
rises into joy at the sight
I can’t stop smiling
smiling
smiling
when she looks so
beautifully
into my eyes direct
and we so connect.
——————–
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