I am the space in which i move –
not the other way around.
Motion happens in this shift, oh and stillness, too.
I am watching out from eyes i can not place!
Oh, who am i kidding?
Cleaning house(a joyful chore!)
now that I am
so much larger
than i perceived
whom is watching
me BE.
_ /’\_ X I\I
When the flow of adrenaline hit the belly
I knew something big was approaching.
I was kicking the dirt
and blowing brrrray
behind the starting gate door.
Small portion fear mixed with ample dollops excitement
ready for the next disaster
sure to be a doozy.
A rough hour in jittery anticipation
until I remembered, oh, the left over coffee,
which you do not normally drink,
in the fridge, was caffeinated,
Lightbulb on.
Dear girl, this morning’s prescient omens
were all a playing out of chemistry
in this reliable and forgiving body.
Simmer down, now, m
All will unfold in its due time –
there is no fire
or another blessed disaster
in the immediate.
Goodness, how beautiful, the playings out
of body and mind – who haven’t yet learned
who is driving the car.
I can remember
that part which is beyond the effects of our everyday drugs,
Watching, watching, quiet at the center,
laughing with love
at my overwrought avatar,
hitting again and again the key
we use for GO.
there is
no time,
no desire, but
someone is
hungry for completion,
while also still and happy,
mellowed out
hollowed out
laughing
and watching
whatever arises.
The now wish is
sharing parsley with my friend,
my trippy colored, hungry friend.
…
I used to live there
and I admit
I do still visit
when I forget,
sinking back
into the piles of laundry,
the dust under beds and on the blades
of outdated ceiling fans in every room,
so many things left undone and haunting
when I could not find
the key to start the engine
for motion
most days.
Moving the house and home
of me
from the sink hole
started slowly
at first,
a notion
of another possible address
where a clean slate
could be gifted
from me
to me
a space
unknown
but felt enough
to at first help my head rise from the pillow
more toward
the day
and less, less the night.
Moving is never a matter of money,
but instead an issue of inner knowing
of just where one lives
in truth.
I see the one who lives there, now,
in the front
still in his pajamas
watering the weeds
that won the battle over the grass,
and my chest muscle tightens –
remembering the pain of my own lost address,
but what can I say?
Only to whisper,
gentle, from the distance
of my passing car:
remember
you don’t have to live there
one second more –
you too
can be one
who knows
that you used to live
where you are now
but you will have learned
that you don’t have to
live there
anymore.
it occurs to me this morning
that flexibility is the higher order
of this earthy trip
from amnesiac birth
and warrior marching
through weed
and thorny ways
on toward an exit
back stage left
even as soon as tomorrow.
at the first sign of tightness
in thought and id
is the time to jump on that confusion,
(which creeks and aches like arthritis
in me, a short lived wow-man)
not when it gets too late
and I have cemented myself
into my own confusion.
does the world need my allegiance
to a side?
I hope not –
sides are always born
of confusion.
may the head to arms to toes of me
BE free of the tightness
born of rigid thoughts.
i like to linger in bed
and avoid the chill of morning
but the calisthenics needed
are not optional
if i want a lucid
view.
I whistle at the squirrel
and dance with walter the cat
and stomp confusion out as
i plunge myself into the frigid bath
of truth
breathing into the spacious air
shaking off all my thoughts
on a constant refresh rhythm.
for now, tea is still waiting
with heavy cream to boot, rich my life.
i’m getting it while i still can
and i’ll have no regret
as breath leaves this body bag
alone alone and together i am
with every worm and vulture
waiting to clean my bones
that served me well.
I’m letting the root rot open to the air.
holding the shovel at bay,
not ready (yet) for the tender hug
of mulch.
Dirt under the fingernails for days.
The smallest of shifts felt
while I trace a line
between self-indulgence, fertilizer,
and truthful, detached seeing-
walking the rows at sunrise.
The birds’ songs and chirps
an invitation to now
to breath
to exposure of even the slightest
inkling of maladjustment,
browning leaves
wilting old growth –
(loved
even so
on her way out).
Meeting needs
as they arise
in the garden outside
and the garden within
is enough.
The world is allowed to die back,
so paradise (undergrowth) can be exposed.
In days of distancing,
my body still
leans in.
Even though the space
is not breached,
I bridge the gap.
Forgive me
as I wonder
about you
at the edge of your shell,
counting the rings,
rolling you over,
tapping your belly
with a stick.
It is no use to tone it down;
the desire is too strong in
the ease of shared moments
while this body
at this time
today, every cell tingling alive-
breathing easy!
For us all.
My reach is forming still
in the field where we meet
beyond any possible harm
except love, that destroyer,
uncompromised
by any contagion.
Bless my forward heart
and join me as soon as you are able;
I’ll still be here,
grinning like the fool,
waiting–ready lava
here to there
magma joy joining us.
Found we are in sameness
recognized
amplified
into motion
in these hands.
Oh learning,
may it never end;
how could it?
There is a sudden clarity this morning,
that I was made to confuse the most literal
beauties that god created.
It is very very good
to give creative writing assignments
with vague directions
to STEM students.
My clarifying emails
only confuse them further
because with good reason
they try to check the temperature
of the water
before jumping in the deep end,
unlike me, who flings myself
into confusing mystery
before the instructions are done.
We have so much to offer each other!
Love me in my frustration
when I have to start over
after leaping too soon.
Also love us
who shiver at the threshold
of just give it a go, rolling our eyes.
Together we fill the color wheel
meeting where somehow
purple bleeds into red.
