I gush

And post a pile of stuff all at once today, the 49th day in which I am living smoke-free. I am changing internally in ways I could not have foreseen. It is alternately wonderful and terrifying, uplifting and aggravating. But it is absolute, and I know it is quite miraculous. Here is a ton of stuff from the last few days. Be well, better, best.

~~~~~~~~~~

Poorly blown glass
distortions and flaws
light maligned against a surface
disturbed in creation
grown of discordant choked vibrations

Purify in holy truth
what semantics obfuscate and confiscate
smooth enough for skating
blanched bared bones
silenced and worn

Enjoined through a small agent
two connected but
brought up short
by grave memoirs proclaiming
brevity’s rules of life

Gaze awhile into this level
fogged over but for one clear vision
wrapped in careful cotton
no harm will befall a heart
once upon a time exposed

~~~~~~~~~~

Good

In the words of
it’s the words of
isn’t it or is it
give me my holy time
whole for a while
constance
countess
countenance of calm

Proof in postcards
slivers of serenity
before and after I hear you
taking down the signs
danger and open or closed
cool breeze enhancing warm sun
dancing with each other across my skin
waiting and willing

~~~~~~~~~~

Below a pale page
ceasing to say
sinking under pain
falling into relief
cut off without connection
dark screens

Sweet humans
does it end in why
brains stopped short
as the planet blows our minds
matter of time
matter through time

~~~~~~~~~~

So it comes to pass
and pass further
expanding past the boundaries of
buildings and streets paved
in standardized squares of cement

Where from here
challenged to allow separate journeys
at once quite able to know
each is separate
except when joined

What records must give
nothing more than how to build
life from scratch
for they are lost often
destroyed before the very eyes
needing them so

~~~~~~~~~~

Visiting the Memorial, 4/17/05

Across a square
through courthouses stern
imposing the weight of centuries’ decisions
on by streets dark
overcast by industrial size shadows
into the quiet part
slowed down and muted just a few years ago
past children and parents living TV commercial
Sunday afternoons
finding a way through the blockages and detritus
of development and landscaping
entering through walls of words
words amplified through speakers
about natural disasters and history
humans and what we share
I don’t stay to hear of when we don’t
(I’m walking in it)

I pass through cottage walls
hearths sharing a common wall so sensibly
climb a winding uphill path
find the three stones I know best
beside each other at the top
where I sit black pants on sandy ground
to face them
not before I breathe in the air
stone and breeze and river blending
sun sparkling on the Hudson
dancing hope and endless youth
practice for a pilgrimage to come
love rests easy here

Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine.
People live in one another’s shelter.
Irish proverb (seanfhocal)

~~~~~~~~~~

Chaos descended then and washed all memory away, which was clearly good. After all, what had come to pass in that time was believed to be the end of the world. It wasn’t then. It isn’t now.

Some amass arms and cans against their private apocalypse. Some waste their lives away in artificially induced oblivion. Almost everyone wears the shadow of plague around their shoulders like a blanket or wrap.

We live, dear ones, and we die. The stones endure and sing their wind induced song. When the sun barrels toward collision with this planet, we will melt and fry. When it bursts and blows apart, leaving this planet in the dark, we will freeze to death.

And don’t you see? Now is the time. Go on this traveling way and see now all over. Get your sleep. Have a grand and glorious global time. Tell us about it when we are where you are.

~~~~~~~~~~

The chronicle changes
sorrow and sweetness
some line crossed
no barricade
just a line thin and frail
deep but so easily crossed again
into easy deadly familiarity