Wednesday, June 1, 2016

June 1


13 comments:

  1. Finding Bliss

    Door knocking cramps outlived
    His serious face appeared
    Crisp with knitted brow.
    As he hurtled forward
    Kettled safe by crisp black suits.

    In my pretense long slaughtered
    By ice carved story
    I stood in still point chamber
    Unloosed from coaching brain
    I thrust my hand in his.

    Beyond the clapping din
    The grip I met was soft
    Respectful. Kind.
    Formless.
    Entangled.

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  2. Bliss

    Sun glinted through the gold maple leaves.
    In the fall you raked them into amber piles.
    I jumped in and when they were gone
    you raked them again.
    I remember
    you, my first playmate.

    In the spring you built a plywood playpen
    and put me in it
    with a dozen baby rabbits.
    I remember
    the down of their fur against my cheek
    as I held them like dolls in my toddler arms.

    When I invented vinaigrette from water
    and seed pods and bits of grass,
    and poured it over dry mud pies,
    I remember you play ate
    and didn’t fawn, but suggested
    other dishes I might make.

    Gardening with you,
    I sat under the old mulberry tree
    while you went from stake to stake,
    tying up tomato vines.
    I remember your outstretched hand
    full of mulberries for me to eat.

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  3. Stone walls cut from ancient quarries
    Laid end to end
    Layer after layer
    Thick wooden doors cut from mystic trees
    Polished by many fingers
    Year after year
    Glossy brass handrails from anonymous donations
    Hold up the weary
    Week after week
    Engraved Holy altar scented thickly with incense
    Has heard endless prayers
    Time after time
    High vaulted ceilings its rafters full of praise
    Cover us with shelter
    Season after season
    Tired old organ the keys yellow and faded
    Sending up our worship
    Song after song
    Battered pews Scuffed and worn
    Always my favorite chair
    House after house

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    Replies
    1. i really like this. "the weary/week" is great, as is the way the poem grows. very understated and yet powerful.

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  4. A blissful time

    I would saddle
    the horse and
    put the strap
    around it's
    large barrel
    like belly

    As I tightened the strap
    hard around the roundness
    putting a knee into the
    horse to prevent it
    from bloating and
    having a loose
    saddle

    I would ride to the outside of
    the small ranch and trot on the
    trails in the meadows with the
    birds and the breeze
    singing as I whipped
    the rein to get ye up with a
    click and and click
    as I get out of a trot
    and into a full gallop

    Riding like the wind
    with my boyish limbs
    wrapping tightly around
    the belly of the horse
    as the smoothness of
    the ride was like
    being on the breeze
    whipping through
    when a piece of
    white plastic
    napkin rose along
    the trail and the
    horse stopped in it's
    tracks catapulting me
    headlong into the grass
    as I popped up and calmed
    my ride down as I put my
    small foot into the stirrup
    and heave myself back into
    the saddle

    My memory of riding in the
    grassy trails in the back
    of our small ranch made me
    happiest when the horse broke
    into a wild gallop out of control
    with my weak arms pulling as hard
    on the reins as I could muster as
    I yelled at the top of my lungs to
    Woe, woe, woe,
    The horse knew where the stable
    was as the ride was almost over
    going straight into the steps
    of the gated ranch
    crossing the street
    without a prayer
    in a full gallop
    The horse knew nothing
    of the danger of almost
    getting hit by a passing
    car, not like the little
    ten year old who was lucky
    to have a horse at that age
    and also lucky to survive
    the dangers of riding alone

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  5. I decide to commune with nature

    I don’t belong
    In the country
    But
    Here
    I
    Am so
    What’s that tree doing?
    Why won’t it grow?
    I talk to it and say “tree
    YOU NEED TO GET IT TOGETHER”
    I yell at it like a New Yorker telling
    The corolla they’re illegally parked
    I shame it like the old man telling those
    Girls not to leave their ice-cream cones
    On the bus as in
    “WHAT”S THE MATTER WITH YOU? YOU
    STUFF YOUR FACE WITH ICE CREAM”
    Etcetera.
    I tell that tree to look at the tree next to it and
    “HOW GREAT IT”S DOING WHY CAN”T YOU
    BE LIKE YOUR BROTHER? HE’S A
    LAWYER”
    Although that’s more of a suburban Long Island kind
    Of yelling and then I remember Shit, I’m in the
    Country, whats with all the yelling? And I stop and
    I try to talk nicey to the tree, and say “come on— life
    Is interesting here on the side of the property that
    Is close to the bitchy neighbors, so you need to grow
    To protect me from them, but seriously tree”
    I say, “you need to grow to protect yourself and you
    Have a life to live and so what
    If you’re a bit damaged — aren’t we all? — Yes I know those
    Branches are dead and they’re going to fall off, but the
    Rest of you is OK, and the OK parts should get to talk
    To birds — what kind? I’m not sure — but I’m telling you talk
    To them. Give them a chance. I’m going to talk to them too, and I’ll
    Look them up later in my birds of the region guide
    And we can discuss all this, when I come back out and
    Talk to you
    Tomorrow.”

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    Replies
    1. Love the way this flows...like the tempo of it. Really cool I look forward to reading more by you

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  6. Joy comes in waves.
    Sometimes the joy is so deep
    You can hardly touch the ground.
    Other times the tides of happiness pull back
    Leaving us dry and crusted in the sun.
    Rough with crystallized salt.
    During this aridity
    -when all joy has washed away
    And happiness cannot be found-
    We gain the knowledge necessary
    To truly experience BLISS.
    We do not shy away when the moon tells the tides of happiness to gently lap at our ankles.
    We recognize and embrace the pleasure!
    Until, once again, we are submerged.
    Saturated. Soaked. Grateful.

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  7. "During this aridity/when all the joy has washed away" is powerful. great "s" words at the end.

    ReplyDelete