Enjoying the Christmas tree,

& the convivial suppertime together,

I noticed in the fire

a salamander,

calmly burning,

& keeping an eye on us.

Aspirations

At my son's place for Thanksgiving
Backwards in time
Relaxing
All sense of display

Now we're Home

The new Christmas tree is bare
waiting in its appointed corner
for its moments of glory

all lit up w/no place to go

We sit around, still stuffed
& content, for awhile,
thanks to the energies of other beings
sacrificed to our human needs
until the next wave of celebrating
presents itself

Hey, isn't there always something
to look up to?

Well, during this waning moon,

I have established a composting system

of garbage cans & a worm farm....

Like Paul Muad-Dibh,

I am breathlessly

still waiting for worms, though.

I 'm de-clutterring again so that

I can enjoy the holidays.

It has been hard for me to break my cable news addiction.

I'm still working on that, struggling to remain

equanimous

lol

the way my meditation teacher told me

equanimous

equanimous

Came across this op-ed today:

http://cavett.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/11/14/the-wild-wordsmith-of-wasilla/

It's, at the very least, literate & gentle,

& says much more than it says.

So, I'll move along now, myself,

to the garden plans & optimistic propagation

of sassanqua camellias

& other things,

work that is actually fun.

Reminded me of Todd Rundgren, somehow:

 

Hey, why not?

Have a great Saturday!

Scary times

build us stronger

strengthen the heart

addle the mind

something inside says

Try Again

Turn the focusing collar

right, left

Line it up

&

Let it Flow

Who's Courting Your Reptilian Brain?

Please forgive me for getting political again

I suppose elections, even for class president

have always fundamentally appealed to the reptilian brain base

the simplest, reflex-based system

that never dreams

only lives to survive

at any cost

the little fight or flight button

that ramps up the adrenal glands

the most basic part of the brain

that lies beneath

the higher-thinking neocortex

that makes us human.

Certainly the Mad Men of the 50's understood this human trait,

& their adventures with it helped to create Today.

By now we're so acclimated to it

we might not even notice while it's working us.....

I just wanted to send this thought out there:

PLEASE carefully evaluate the claims

& strategies popping up all over the place.

Consider the source.

Consider what it's appealing to....

FEAR

or

HOPE

?

It's up to us to understand ourselves
&
make the difference.

Equinox

The season turns again

latest details

here

Floating along

aimless

but not

brainless

evidently

Brainless

The same door at the Kimbell

under rain clouds

Mercurial spirit

whispering

into my empty head

Retreating

I'll be seeing you
in all the new unfamiliar places
Hahahaha
I'll be on the move
(Oscar Mike)
until I get all squared away
& stop this incessant parroting
of things I watched on TV
& have a better grasp
of my own true voice
even if only bits of it
materialize

But I always always always
mean well.

You're my Blue Sky, You're my Sunny Day

There is a panel of blue sky
in the emergency room at Sacred Heart
& you sat there bundled into a flimsy blanket
shivering & scaring the life out of me

The doctor looked like Elvis
jet black hair
pale blue eyes
sideways grin

I suppose we were a novelty
the two of us
among the nosebleeds
baseball injuries
& noisy sufferers
the regulars

you said

We were the irregulars
paying the price
for living so well
except for the small detail
of dental floss
over time

Later, while you slept,
you seemed such an Innocent
there in Clear Conscience Land
I sat on the beach
making mental fun
of my many companions
admiring the real sky
the coral umbrella
(very flattering to the skin, that light)
the emerald fluff's eternal minuet
reflecting upon the sturm und drang

and I just could not help smiling
& bopping a little to the iPod choices
I made before we left
not regretting
a single one

Say Something

It could mean anything

it could say

mountains

or

river

It could be some forgotten

cursive
rendering
of original thought

It could say

This way to the dead leaf

or

I am usually invisible

It could be a parody
of Alfred Hitchcock

It could be shedding its skin

or feeling life wiggle

inside herself

& stopping to savor that

Viral

I caught something wonderful today!

Conqueror

An offer I could not refuse
this blue dragonfly
& unnoticed companion(s?)
claiming an outpost
on a battered post
sat long minutes
pondering

breathing

gazing NNW for some reason
known only to the dragonfly

Sloooooow putters on the green
lining 'em up like Ben Crenshaw

gave me time to play my own game

Back on Track

Marking Time
the fan blades whirring into one shadow
wings fanning into one blur
hummingbird wings
alial elevation
both feet on the ground
trudging along behind the lawn mower
I salute
the persistence of weeds
& briars
& the bright haze
surrounding the Summer Moon.

Acceptance

I've been kind of blue
after the demise of the cardinal babies.

One was too big for the nest,
& tipped out the whole lot,
evidently,
judging from the empirical evidence
I found.

What I found...

broke my heart for awhile.

So TODAY

I'll pull a few weeds,

set out the hummingbird feeders

take care of a few other details,

& continue to observe

Nature's Way.

Bird Business

I saw the brilliant father stop by
perched on a patio chair--
couldn't get a good shot, though,
& the mother, whose dishevelment,
evidently resulting from just sitting
for so long, endeared her forever to me--
her topknot in such disarray.

But now she's sleek again, & assertive,
a grain of something that looked like a bit of dried corn
glowing within her golden orange beak.

The way she waits for the biggest chick
to stand down so she can reach the smaller ones,

& her fierce pride, flying in the face
of bluejays taunting
like juvenile delinquents on a subway,

or well-meaning humans.

When I approach the window,
from inside my own house,
inside, with camera or coffee cup,
she flies at the glass & her entire
demeanor says

BUZZ OFF

NOW

So I keep in the shadow of a curtain
watching from time to time
as I pass by on other duties
to spy on the progress.

This rich blessing of time--
to love & observe the birds
their colors
their cries...

I leave a small pile of popcorn
just outside the door

Art Lesson

After twisting & turning

for 2,000 miles, only

for the reward of a 50-mile view,

& s-curves of the road left to travel

back down,

I found myself in Death Valley

on a road so straight

that the vanishing point

vanished.

PROMISE

This time of morning last Sunday

I was so tired

so tired

so tired

so tired of the blessings

I'd driven over the Sierra Nevada

spotted oil wells dotting the Llano Estacado

such beautiful names

for a wilderness

a wilderness

I've been miles deep in caverns

observing the roots of our art forms

toasted with fine wine

chilled by the Pacific's blue

become acquainted with deer

& contented cows

snapped away at picturesque

water fountains

& the majestic Grand Canyon

surrounded by French people

with their mellifluous sounds

spent time with my ambitious son 

touring the impossible lighthouse

overlooking a beach with the highest

concentration of white sharks in the world

viewed ancient Egyptian relics

seen a very fine breakfast or two

& a movie that left me wondering

what it means to love something

I loved it all

so much

The face above all others I saw

in Winslow, Arizona

a young Indian baby girl

profoundly sleeping on her father's shoulder

an elderly woman in Wal-Mart

sitting on a bench, waiting

(Was it for me?)

Her white bone adornments

She was so beautiful

that now the memory of her face

brings tears to mine

it was all so wonderful

that last Sunday morning

at just about this time

my weariness caused me to plow

several yards into the profusion

of black-eyed susans & queen anne's lace

gracing the median strip

I was only an hour from home

just like they say it could happen

There was a mist, 

the only drops of moisture

I had seen coming from clouds

the entire trip

A mist raining down just over the top of my car...

as if it were a personal rain

falling in through the open window

resuscitating the flowers

& me

Now I know there is something more

I always thought  

that there must be

Now I know there is

& it is 

Wonderful

Gratitude

This is just to say
that all is well
I had a dream
that is coming true
& for that I humbly
thank the Universe
every moment
dreams coming true

Crepuscule With Nellie

Some lights & darks
I remember the first time I met Mimi
She didn't tell me then,
only years later,
that my face & form reminded her
of the only grandmother she had known,
this woman whose tintype
defies sharp focus


There is some connection here, although
I don't feel a physical resemblance.

Something about the eyes
morphs in the series
of lowlight shots I took

Something flows
from our lives
into other lives

We're never truly alone

This woman was Mimi's Grandpa's
younger second wife
after his first love died in childbirth
producing Mimi's wild mother

This one took care
took care
took care
took care

She took care

& left to me
some of her
tender
mystery

Periwinkle

I found this flower among other things
last Friday as I waited for a car repair
Then I read about the God Hunter
& realized such color
is related to despair


I have known certain people
whose pleasure is despair
(Despair is their pleasure
is what I meant)

They are often poets, I find,
whose eyes & ears are always hungry,
always reaching for the truth
always dreaming a New World

On the other side of Despair,
once you break through it,
is the flower of your thoughts
that returns in cycles.

Even a child can banish despair
with one rich chuckle

Even a bug can banish despair
wiggling its antenna

Even a flower only a few millimeters wide
can banish despair by holding still
for its close-up in a breeze

Do what you can find to do,
or as much as is possible to do,
which is to admit despair
which is to admit hope
which is to sing or dance
your highs & lows & middles

you are the god & the goddess

you are the Chosen One

Gears

For weeks now, I have been obsessed
with the color white
even though the acid green
of spring flows down from the sky
white, white, here, there, even the sun
behind clouds assumes a pall of white

Maybe I missed the snow
did not get my fill
of winter white

But I have learned that colors speak

They guide me to the things
that are needed

So this brilliant day spent
following mundane tasks

a new fuse drove the flower
of thoughts

to metal & to white

in my shirt brown as a wren

even as colors resound

gaudy pink beginning to shout

the blue, magnificent, subtle,
the white of clouds
every shade of gray
the spectrum

devolving

into pixels & bytes

of myself

Adrenalin

If I pay attention



only



to what is happening



NOW




All The World



appears



to be looking back



at what I perceive



to be



Me.



But it's only



my chemicals



seeing this



noticing that



& then interpreting



the Beautiful



the Happy



the Sad



all the categories



I'm looking for



are



out there



which is to say



in here



which is to say....

The Other Side

The morning I first saw the harbingers,

I had been worried about my blood pressure--

what things elevate it,

what things calm it down:

Swimming lazily forward

without a ripple

forward, turn, back,
forward, turn, back,

the air filling up & releasing,

my shoulders gliding along

all the while I think

One

One

One

One


But, oh,

how I love the ones that elevate.

They say

Come Alive!

The World is full of so many Special Opportunities

TODAY.

Welcome to the New World!



Like the dove said without saying

when it landed on the windowsill

holding a green twig,

its shadow flickering

in the watery light.

Dark Into Light

A poem comes from your body,

but

your poem is not your body.

Your body dreams a poem.

Your poem is a dream body.

Your poem is your dream’s

tombstone to the world.


It says

Thanks for Everything.

Chemicals, That's ALL

OXYTOCIN & VASOPRESSIN are released......

Researchers can make prairie voles
fall in love—or whatever the vole
equivalent of this is—with an injection.


LOVE . . . .

…lies bleeding
……in a mist
…to love you BABY
……a-ah a-ah a-ah ! ! !

Blinded with science
is a dove in the rocks.
A bunch of grapes
springs like a gazelle!

My delicate fingertips drip with myrrh…
lips crush like honeycomb…
knocking at your gate……I will build
a willow cabin— — —we will stay up late…
and in the morning make perfect crispy waffles !

Negotiate the baffles……
Engineer pointless raaaaaaafffffflllllllleeessssss…
Rhyme purple with orange …
Answer like a chipped brick wall…

Mmmmmy harmmmmmmonious

Apple of Desire,

The Voice of the Turtle m-m-m-m-mocks
The sound of one hand CARESSING.…
Light one candle…
Never curse the Darkness!

(Even The Gideons have to economize
in this day of enfeebled charities!)

If the prairie voles are fools enough,
my Jewel of Ten Thousand Things,
with this Onion-ring I thee bed……
It’s all in our heads,
since science has shown
we’ve no will of our own.
We’re creatures of our amino acids— —
and what do they really know?


Not much.

You?

Caught

I'd been suffering a bad cold

just lying around like a feverish lizard

but after two days got tired of it

& ventured out to a poetry meeting

with a couple of strange conglomerations

of lines intended to be wryly humorous

or nobly Stoic, maybe you know me

maybe you don't, well,

probably you don't

This is so because I barely know myself

which is why I needed that meeting

to get some inspiration from old friends

even though they write the same themes

again & again

& that's part of them

part of their particular appeal

but then

when it's my turn

& this could just be my impression

well it obviously must be my impression

but after my turn there is general approval

but often someone or other of them

remains gazing at a ceiling tile

or tapping a pen on a notepad

but nobody asks a question

because it is generally assumed

that I have once again

skirted around my central theme

as playfully as usual

using funny words

juxtaposing concepts

like Pink Floyd coinciding

with white truffle searches

among the shredded coconut

that packs my head & a penchant

for supernumerary avatars

& a chorus of dubious laughter

Anyway I took a walk around the gardens

& snapped the shot above

the fading camellia

the honeybee

but after such riches, such luxury

a white mist, a cloud, lay on the surface

of the local bayou, & a lazy plume of fog

encircled a bare cypress tree

& I missed my camera, not to mention

adequate safety to pull over out of traffic

open the window & inhale that view

by the time I got back, the mist had cleared

the bare cypress tree looked winter dead

instead of about to ascend to heaven

just plain, casting spiky shadows now

around the cormorants' favorite haunt

So I was caught feeling sad to have missed

that opportunity, what might have been,

what was that never had been, nor will it ever

be the same again.

Happy New Year

Last night I ventured out into the cold
to see the stars in the blackest sky
amateur fireworks burst here and there
the popular color being green, lime green

off the shoulder of Orion, I thought

like tears in rain

I thought

the sad companion left behind
with his woes

with his dreams of women

surgically enhanced women

and his foolishness

He just doesn't get it

thinks it's all written on the outside

an open book

if the proportions cohere

I thought

and his grief just makes me tired

(compassion being quite inconvenient at times)


and I thought of my own foolishness
and avoidance of resolutions
other than digital images
which are the only ones that count to me now
that speak to me


I'm planning a trek
across the part of my country
between here and California
parts I have never seen except in photos
and movies
I'll bring along my dog and my cameras
and a cell phone and a laptop
and a nutritional system of my own devising
no tent, just an SUV

I could be dreaming, but the idea
could really grow on me
could become more possible
with each passing day

There was a time I felt a constant companion
but that entity checks in with me less often now
and I keep hoping

hoping

hoping

that when the time is right

I'll see the light

and hear the music

and dance. . .