There are spells cast
by whom I do not know
causing hours, sometimes days,
in the world to be annoying.
I suspect a conspiracy of ill will
toward a me who is just trying to get by.
This powerless creature in the corner
fights back, as any small creature does,
nail and tooth – oblivious to any other possibility.
It is a self-created corner, but do not tell that to the rat,
who vaguely recalls the days of cheese and finish lines.
Deus ex machina is in order in this corner –
Bring in the crane and lift her out,
goes out to the stage hands —
for the rat who has forgotten
where to find the elevator button;
she has forgotten the hidden zipper
in her little rat suit.
She is scratching at walls, smelling dead end corners,
biting hands that feed her.
Forgotten has she that she designed the maze
to promptly fall into
in order to be found.
There are hours, and sometimes days,
of maze running
of squinting eyes and cheese hoarding –
clips boards hovering overhead.
What is this course,
this confusing path with walls,
this capacity of ours to exist in so many
places and in so many ways
at once so fully in each?
the rat – the funder – the designer – the observer – ocean
the mind – a sticky note storm – a hurricane the size of Africa – Om – ocean
the body – a straight jacket – a secret word – the breath – ocean
May we all fall into the ocean from every where.
May Jacob’s ladder be thrown from a helicopter
into our wayward dreams.
The only interesting thing is the wonder.
Where does the helicopter fly from here
when questions fall away,
when my scratching pen ceases to mark the trail?
The sky to the maze is the ground just for liftoff –
dropped is the story of chase and chased.
What comes next a mystery lived.
Life as Improv 
And there are those in white lab coats who insist it is nought but chemicals and neuronal firings. But my, those chemicals certainly make me feel like something else is going on. Pass the Warfarin Marga.
H ❤
You have given me a grand mal, I’m afraid. My prescription had run out and despite the warning, I watch my near death experience on the screen; in fact, I keep watching over and over. I wonder if the Akashic records are just a series of vignettes like this and limbo is a trip through short films of every pattern of neural network mixed with experience in time x infinity. Delightful trip, H! I will seek out your film in the world beyond, for sure.
Marga,
A wind came through and sent airborne a huge pile of sticky notes as I sat down to respond to your offering here. I wanted to say something about the key being hidden away for you in one of those little ingots of dangled cheese, by the great Smuggler himself! Then I remembered in a flash a children’s story that once captivated me, about a ring that had gone missing on a cruise ship and (I think) was baked into the cake. There were so many cake pieces to be searched and so many crazy characters eating them, that my child’s eyes needed to tour the vessel over and over. Even though I knew the ring would be found. Each time, it was that momentary losing of that certainty that gave the story its emotional weight. How does this happen!?
Then I remembered these other paper scraps from long ago:
I loved your oceanic lines. I am sending reinforcements.
Michael
I don’t even know whose life I’m writing about anymore, Michael. Truly, I am okay, or maybe I’m not but I’m looking down on it all from a different perspective, so the bigger knowing is there. Why did it take me all the troubling words and images to get to what I truly feel, “The only interesting thing is the wonder.” I think that should be my jumping off point, not all the pre-writing rat trap imaginings. But if that had not been there then I would have never received your wonderful connecting threads with Nihm, one of those childhood books I read and reread. So what do I know, me as rat, scientist, teacher trapped grading essays on a beautiful sunday, or ocean? I once bought a book that I thought was about “consciousness” that was over 600 pages long. I think about 10 pages of the 600 finally focused on what I was looking for, and after talking to a friend about it, we thought that perhaps this seeker was at that ratio in his journey 59 small picture thoughts to 1 bigger picture realization. I should count up the lines above and see my ratio. 🙂
You are so kind to send reinforcements – they will be served tea and cake (with keys strategically placed) and sent on to the next emergency storm relief duty. Such people as I see on this screen bolster this ever growing feeling that I am never, not ever, alone. Glorious Sun Day to you, M!
Oh, I understand this poem far too much! I have mostly remembered I have a zipper, yet for the life of me have not been able to make it work in far too long. In the past few weeks, though, I have stopped fighting. Most of the time. If I cannot unzip it, then perhaps I can make peace with this suit in the meantime.
Namaste.
Peace trumps zipper struggles for sure. I am sure that we can meet for cheese instead of tea or anything else according to whatever suits we may be wearing – and even beyond that, after the suits have been put into the recycling bin. I’ve many threads to weave with you yet, dear Kelly, so I know now is no farewell. xo! m
I understand this poem far too much! I have mostly remembered I have a zipper, yet for the life of me have not been able to make it work in far too long
So nice of you to read so thoroughly and thoughtfully as to connect with the zipper image buried within all these words. May you and I, and everyone, learn to zip in and out with ease! 🙂
Very much life explained in a poem…Awesome..
Thank you new to gardens.